


From the Inside, Out

by boxxed



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, More or less Canon Compliant, bg tentoo/rose, it's technically cheating but my h/cs make it ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxxed/pseuds/boxxed
Summary: When the TARDIS drops the gang off in a criminal holding facility, the Doctor finds someone she never expected.
Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 33
Kudos: 179





	1. Prison Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is unbeta'd. I've edited to the best of my ability but if you spot any glaring mistakes that I've missed, please feel free to let me know. Thank you ~

"What even is this place?" Asked Yaz. She had her face almost pressed to one of the hundreds or thousands of glowing screens that lined the expansive wall space. Out of it stared a man with little hair on his head but plenty in his eyebrows. They furrowed so deep that it was hard to imagine he could see much of anything anymore. He was holding up a white placard detailing a few lines of essential information in a bold, black serif and when he moved, it seemed as though he was shifting his weight from one foot to another before the action reset and he was back in his original position. A three second loop: shift, back, shift, back. Over and over like a glitch.

"It's a prison," said the Doctor. She gazed around at the hundreds or thousands of glitches before looking up to the lightless ceiling, the only place to escape from a sea of bleak, luminous faces. "Well, sort of. No one here's actually been convicted of anything, yet; they're awaiting trial, so I suppose you could call this a waiting room."

"But there's no one here. Just a whole load of creepy clips."

"What? No, you don't get it; these" the Doctor made a wide arm gesture around the room, "are the cells. Time cells. They take a person in a moment and store that moment in a screen while they wait for their court dates, and then when the day comes, they're released and no more than five seconds of their life's been lost. Mostly used in cases where more evidence is needed but the authorities don't want to, you know, just let them go while they find it."

"Gotta admit," said Graham, tearing his eyes away from a screen displaying feline woman. Her listed crime was 'catknapping'. "That doesn't seem so bad."

Jack laughed. A short, sharp 'ha!' that was anything but amused. "Might not sound it but trust me: you get put in one of these things, you aren’t getting out for a long time. One minute you're arrested for hitting on a Shikun kings' wife because everyone else has and you want to see what the fuss is about, and the next, a hundred years have passed and everyone you know is dead, including that king and his wife. Not to mention when the Doctor says 'finding evidence', often it means 'making evidence'. Or waiting for the powers at be to perish so whoever's pissed them off this time can stop using up cell space." The Doctor half expected Yaz to chime in with a not all law enforcement speech, but maybe she realised that it wouldn't get her anywhere. 

"Could we set them free?" Said Ryan. He was scanning the faces as if he might find someone he knew. Jack, on the other hand, was decidedly not. Likely to avoid finding someone he knew. The Doctor had already found two but they weren't anyone she liked. 

"It's a nice thought," said the Doctor, "but no. I don't think we could. Not en masse, anyway. We'd risk tripping the power supply and if the power goes, poof, kerblam, everyone's gone with it."

"Wow, shit."

"'Shit', indeed."

Yaz raised a hand to the man she'd been watching, tracing the outline of his head with her forefinger as if it might comfort him. Possibly it did for a second before he reset again. "Why would the TARDIS bring us here, then?"

"'En masse', I said. Maybe there is someone who we should be releasing. Or someone who definitely should not under any circumstances be released. Hmm... Welp!" She said, clapping her hands together, "no time like the present. Best crack on; shout if you find someone who seems like they could be interesting." The collective groan at an impending afternoon of tedium filling the air wasn't exactly the reaction the Doctor wanted, but no one was actively objecting so she stayed quiet as they got to work. 

There were far more cells than the Doctor had originally estimated. The room was more of an oversized corridor, the dim glow from the cells weren't enough for her to see how far it went but still guided them further while casting soft shadows across her friends faces. The cavernous space lead on for what felt like miles and every screen seemed less relevant than the last. Every now and then, one of the others would point out someone who wasn't in for one of that same half a dozen alleged charges that kept reoccurring. But even these became less frequent once the Doctor put her foot down and told them that weird sex stuff and anything that sounded like it might be related to weird sex stuff was off the table. 

"But what if it's really weird?" Asked Jack, sounding too bored to really put in the effort, "like, even for me. Because let's face is, boss, if _I_ think it's weird, then it's gotta be something else."

" _Ugh_ , fine. But the rest of you can keep it to yourselves. I've seen things and nothing in here's gonna shock me."

So they continued their search in a quiet that the Doctor didn't enjoy but also didn't make an effort to dispel. She gave up on reading the placards after a while, instead figuring that she was bound to know when she saw the right person. She did however notice a string of numbers in the bottom, right corner of each screen, every one slightly different. There was a pattern to them as she walked further down, ignoring everything but the numbers.

"Oh!" She said as an explanation occurred. "Guys, I think we need to head straight down to the other end. The dates indicate that we're heading towards the newer occupants and if the TARDIS is bringing us here, now, then I bet whoever we're here for hasn’t been in for long." This was greeted with a chorus of complaints at wasted time. Humans could be so sensitive over a couple of hours. 

The other end was not as far away as the beginning, a fact that Ryan was extremely pressed to point out while Graham patted his shoulder in grandfatherly gesture. Yaz made a valiant effort to not to look too frustrated. "There better actually be something here, now," she said. "Oh, god, what if the TARDIS didn't bring us here for any reason? What if it was just a mistake? Nope. Not gonna think about it. I want this over with, now, I'm so bored."

Her, Ryan and Graham began their search one side of the room while Jack and the Doctor started on the other. The Doctor didn't really think her three would find anything so she would go over their space after she'd finished hers. But first she took her time with each face in front of her, reaching for a spark of recognition that didn't want to come. Maybe Yaz was right. Maybe they were here for another reason, or no reason at all. 

"This one's a bit alright," she heard Ryan say and Yaz respond, "don't be a pig," before continuing, "though, to be fair, you have a point." To which Graham laughed.

Jack turned to her, shaking his head slightly, "don't fancy checking out the 'bit alright' girl?" The Doctor rolled hers eyes but couldn't help a small smile. She turned her attention back to a handsome face that she thought maybe reminded her of someone who might actually be an actor and not someone she actually knew but was _definitely_ at least familiar.

"Why does it just say _Bad Wolf_?" Said Yaz. 

Then the world stopped spinning. 

Jack moved first; swivelled on his heal and darted across to the others, all but barrelling them out of the way. By the time the Doctor turned around, he was staring back at her wide-eyed and gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. 

"Who is she?" Asked Graham. It was clear from his tone that he was trying to suss out if this were a good thing or bad, an answer the Doctor wished she knew herself. Jack seemed about as inclined to respond to the question as she was and she wondered if all he wanted to do was scream _it's her it's her it's her it's her it's her!_ as well. Instead, they stared at each other for a moment before the Doctor focused her sight beyond him and began to edge forward. 

Jack didn't move out of the way until the Doctor reached him and when he did she had to stop again. 

The woman staring back was older than when she'd last seen her: mid thirties perhaps. The once youthful softness of her face was gone and what was left was her dramatically sharp cheekbones and a beauty that was more terrifying than it had been before. Most of her bottle blonde hair was pulled back into a high, sleek ponytail and it looked like she had been dressed up to go out when she'd been taken. She stood so still that the beginning and end of her loop was virtually seamless. The placard she held up had no information, only the words _Bad Wolf,_ just like Yaz had said. 

"Rose," was all the Doctor could force herself to say, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

"Doctor, why's she in there?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, Jack. Obviously I don't know."

"But you're gonna get her out, right?"

"I _said_ don't ask stupid questions." She took another step forward and crouched so she could meet Rose eye-to-eye. She exhaled. "Oh, what have you done. I bet this is my fault; usually is." She took some readings with her sonic and located what she needed: a hard drive, a complicated little thing designed to hold more than just raw data and there was no way she was getting to it from the outside.

The screen, when pried loose from the wall with her fingertips was much heavier than the Doctor had anticipated. "Ryan, you're strong, take this off me and hold it steady. Don't accidentally pull anything out. Seriously, don't move." She worked around a dozen or so wires and tried not to knock the processor even if it was likely just a backup. She wouldn't take chances with Rose's life, no _let's see what happens if I just do this_ this time. There were a lot of unnecessary components to work around, likely to put off anyone trying to attempt this exact thing. But she was the Doctor and it would take a universe to stop her from getting to Rose Tyler. That's what it had always taken.

It took a few minutes but she finally got to what she wanted. She held up the little silver box, still attached to the rest of the machine. "Look," she said to her companions, "a whole moment, a whole consciousness, a whole person exists in here."

"That's great, Doctor," said Ryan, "but can you hurry up; my arms are wrecking."

"And I want our girl out of there," said Jack. _Our girl_. The one who had brought them together and the one who kept them there even after she was lost to them. 

"I ask again," said Graham, "who is she?"

"I'm sure she can introduce herself," said the Doctor, "just a mo." 

It was just a case of releasing the compressor without interrupting the receptor module and the sonic screwdriver being held steadier than it had ever been before. No biggie. And then, in theory, whatever was kept inside would be forced out, no long able to be contained. Another moment and the compressor _clicked_ or _whooshed_ or _zipped_ open. It didn't actually make a sound but it _had_ felt empty and small and now it was wide and releasing and the doctor held the hard drive out in front of her as it began to burn red hot. She wouldn't drop it. She wanted to drop it. She wouldn't. She did.

It spat out of her hand or her hand spat it and if only she had the power to stop time itself, she would. She could see everything then, the fall, the crash, the _sorry I let you down again._ A flash. The box wasn't there. The wires that had clung to it hung loose out of the back of the monitor as Ryan put it down, shaking out his sore arms. 

Where it should have hit the floor wax a woman, sat facing away with her legs to one side and her hands pressed against the floor as if she might topple if she didn't. She was breathing hard and the Doctor wasn't breathing at all. 

She saw the smile that split Jack's face when Rose, her Rose, finally looked up. It had been a long time since she'd seen him smile like that, like centuries of heartache weren't weighing him down as much as he tried pretending it didn't. But she knew what he saw when he looked at Rose Tyler; a time when they were all younger, freer, kinder, when they all let themselves love each other like it wouldn't break them. She knew because she felt it too; without even seeing her face she had stepped back in time and she was dancing, dancing, dancing. 

Jack looked at her then and Rose followed his movement, turning around her hip and when they faced each other Rose's mouth twitched, a ghost of an unsure smile.

" _Doctor_?" She said. 

And then the lights came on.

White, metal shutters on each side of the room crashed down, the one nearest severing the cables that attached the removed monitor to its' spot in the wall. The crash of them was deafening and sirens whirred so loud that the Doctor was scared that the others wouldn't hear when she screamed _run!_ and grabbed Rose's hand to pull her to her feet. It didn't work that way. Rose stumbled on her stilettos and fell back on her knees and the Doctor waved wildly at the others to _just go already._ Rose unbuckled and ripped one of her shoes off while the doctor took the other and then, second time around, they got to their feet, hand-in-hand, and they ran.

They ran so hard and so fast that the Doctor thought her legs might collapse beneath her. But she didn't stop. Not in this room flooded with so much white light that there wasn't even a shadow to hide in. She didn't look behind her to see if they were being followed- of course they were being followed but through the blood pounding in her ears, even without the alarms she wouldn't be able to tell how close their pounding feet were. She wasn't about slow and see how close they were to capture. To both of them being held at the mercy of intergalactic law. 

At the other end, the Doctor could see the TARDIS. Yaz and Jack held open the doors, one each side, slamming them shut as soon as they were both clear. The doctor headed straight for the console. Rose went right to the navigation.

"Okay, where to?" She said.

"As far from here as possible," called Ryan.

"What he said," said the Doctor as Rose nodded and began setting their destination as the doctor prepared for them to take flight. "Somewhere in the middle of space preferably."

The ripping sound of the TARDIS on the move was more comforting than it had ever been. Violent turbulence had them all clinging for stability that wasn't found and by the time it settled, all of them were at least halfway collapsed on the floor. The Doctor let herself sink further, resting her head on the console for a brief moment. She tried to think but her head just kept responding Rose Rose Rose RoseRoseRose.

"Where are we?" Asked Yaz as she pushed herself up and flicked stray locks of hair from her face and then pulled another from her mouth.

"Star cluster XB-8472, in the galaxy FG78JK," said Rose, "it doesn't really have a proper name; nothing lives here and there's virtually no resources worth salvaging. There's more or less zero chance of anyone even _looking_ in this direction, much less finding us."

"That's great," said Graham, sounding annoyed. "But we still don't know who you are and now we're on the run because of you."

" _Hey, now,_ " said Jack, low, warning.

"I'd point out that I don't know you, either but-"

"But," interjected Yaz, "we're not the ones who've just been sprung from space prison."

"I said 'hey, now'."

Rose sighed. "No, that's fair," she said. Graham, Yaz and Ryan all stood together, practicality shoulder to shoulder, (or at least they would be if Ryan weren't so tall and Yaz so short), a team. "My name's Rose. Tyler. Travelled with the Doctor years back and yes, I've gotten myself into some trouble but it's nothing you can hate me for so you can chill, or whatever."

"And what _is_ the trouble?" Said the Doctor. It was wrong that this should be the first thing she said to her. She stifled the part that wanted to rejoice, to retake her hand and pull her close and hold her and never let go. It wouldn't be fair to the others; they deserved answers even if she didn't particularly care about them. 

"Y'know, the usual, jumping between universes every now and again. Apparently, it's pretty frowned upon these days."

"Rose. That could lead-"

"To the collapse of both universes. Yes, I am pretty aware, thanks. Though it might shock you: I've been doing this long enough to know that that's not gonna happen because I'm not stupid and have been careful."

"Obviously not careful enough."

"Oh, _do one_ , will you? I've only been in here two minutes and you're already having a go! Sorry babe, but I'm not in the mood for taking lectures and if I was, it sure as hell ain't gonna be from you."

"I don't get it, though, why? Why take the risk? I know well enough that you wouldn't do it for no reason."

Rose stared at her hard for a moment. It was hard to tell if she was actually angry or not; she'd always had a fierce temper when it came to it, but if the moment struck it was never without cause. She sighed again. "Maybe it's easier if I show you," she said finally, deflating. 

She picked up one of her shoes where she'd dropped it and got the other from atop of the console where the Doctor had put it, slipped them back on and fastened them up. When she stood, they made her practically half a foot taller and as she walked across the TARDIS floor, the click of her heels reverberated around the room. Everyone turned to watch her as she put took hold of the doors and threw them open. She stood there for a moment with her arms stretched wide like she was waiting for an embrace from the vacuum of space itself. 

She waited like that, gathering herself and then her shoulders relaxed and she took a step forward. And another. And another. And another. And she was outside. She did not float or fall. Her hair, her clothes only moved with her and the fall of her feet hit a definite surface that definitely wasn't there.

 _And in the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea._ But Rose Tyler walked on stardust and when she turned, the Doctor saw she was made of so much more.

"Good god," whispered Jack from behind her. There was no god here. Only Rose.

Only the Bad Wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the main bulk of this chapter written a couple of days before The Timeless Child came out so imagine how funny it was for me when she wound up in space prison.
> 
> 6/3/2020: As of right now this is the only chapter written. I know how the story is going to end but I'm not sure yet entirely how we're getting there. Baring this in mind, going forward there is every possibility the rating etc.might change, just dont be too surprised if it does. 
> 
> Thanks for reading ☆


	2. Round Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I never know what to do with compliments so if you left a comment on chapter one or perhaps henceforth, please know that it really is appreciated and encouraging  
> 2) also I'd like to formally apologise for presenting here what is essentially 3 1/2k words of exposition. I promise there are no plans for this to happen again ✌

The Doctor watched Rose's chest rise and fall with each heavy, shuddering breath. A drop of sweat ran over her collarbone and disappeared under the neckline of her dress. Jack crouched beside her, rubbing soothing circles on her back but the Doctor stayed standing, periodically scraping her hands through her hair. The others waited on the far side of the TARDIS, not wanting be intimately close to the woman who had - not two minutes ago - been glowing with infinite power. 

"That _was_ what I think it was," said the Doctor, "wasn't it?".

("She was _glowing_ , Doc," called Graham, "glowing!")

Rose looked up, wincing with the strain. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

"No one's supposed to have hold of the time vortex like that, Rose, you know as much as anyone. It could kill you."

"It _is_ killing me," said Rose before coughing twice and putting a hand to her chest. She swallowed hard, then used Jack's shoulder to push herself to her feet. He let her lean on him to keep steady, though it was clear from his posture she was having to use all her weight to do so.

"Then you need to stop using it," he said.

"Wow, Jack, I didn't realise you'd become a fucking super genius since I last saw you. Why didn't I think of that?"

"The sarcastics really aren't necessary."

"If you're gonna be stupid, they are."

"So explain," said the Doctor, suddenly weary. She felt as though she'd stepped into one of her nightmares of old; the ones with Rose, close enough to touch but every time she put her hand out, she was just out of reach, no matter how fast or how long she ran. "How did this start?"

"You know how it started. You were there."

"No, I took it out of you."

"You took _most_ of it," said Rose, although it sounded like an apology. "But there was still a bit and - god, I had no idea. I swear, I had no idea until- what? Seven years ago?"

"Seven-? Never mind; what happened?"

Rose relinquished Jack enough that he was able to stand up but she continued to lean on him. She looked small for a moment, tucked into his side, slouched and beseeching. "It was just one of those days, you know?" She said. "Alien invasion, eight months pregnant, mum will literally not stop trying to phone me because fuck knows why-"

"Probably the alien invasion," said Ryan.

"Trust me, you've never met my mum; she's like- never mind. Anyway, I was at the point where I was just, like, _this_ close to snapping and maybe killing someone when _another_ emergency alarm went off and… it- well, it stopped. Everything just stopped. _Time_ stopped. And I was there, the only thing left functioning. And for a moment I was half panicked that the world was gonna be stuck like that. Silly, I know, but like I said, very pregnant, stressful day, blah blah blah. Eventually I calmed down and just like that,” she clicked her fingers, “everything went back to normal. Didn't know what happened at the time; spoke to the husband about it, looked at me like you are right now."

"Rose, you're talking about single-handedly controlling time and then living to tell the tale. That first time was a fluke, a big one, but this? How many times has it happened? Can you make it happen?"

"That's all a bit rich, coming from you. Can’t say I’ve ever tried. Not for something like that anyway. What I did back there? That’s nothing. A bit of matter manipulation; a kettle can do it, yet I feel like I've run the London marathon in an hour, imagine how I’m managing after a more powerful episode."

"So, I'm guessing," said Jack, "that's asking you to try is out of the question?"

"Too right, it is. But here’s the thing, I have a life. I can't go off dying because when I was nineteen, I was reckless. We- I tried everything we could think of. About four years ago we were out of ideas, thought that maybe getting here was worth a shot, then another year before we built something that could actually get me here again. We were right, though; I've had better luck this side of the void and I'm sure that's because the vortex is of this universe… problem is now, it just won't leave. Like I can feel it and I know I can let it go; it's just that when it comes to it, it stays put. There's nothing more I can do except maybe find a way to force it out? I don’t know."

"What about you, Doctor?" Said Yaz who, along with the others has apparently concluded that Rose wasn't about to eviscerate them with her superpowers quite yet and were now standing a couple of feet away. "You can come up with something."

Rose laughed, far more animated than she had been just two minutes ago and the Doctor realised it was the first time she'd seen her smile in millennia. She'd forgotten what it was like to look at the sun. "For old times sake? Kind of why I'm here, anyway. Last chance saloon and all that." Rose said, sounding as amused as anyone could given the situation. She bit her lip and oh, it was entirely her. 

"I can't promise I'll find the answer," said the Doctor, "but I will do everything I can." As if she would have said anything else; maybe that was what Rose had found funny: the notion of her saying 'no'. "Actually, no, screw that, screw your god powers, I am going to fix this and then I'm going to send you home better than ever and also…yeah, also, I really missed you."

Rose laughed again, loud and joyful, and closed the space between them in two and a half strides - in all her physicality - wrapping her arms around her like she had countless times before. "I'd say I'd missed you, too," she whispered against her hair, "but I've kind of got my own, you know." When she pulled back, she put her hands of each side of the Doctors face and the Doctor took her wrists, revelled at the feeling of her skin beneath her palms. "I don't like you being shorter than me."

"It's your stupid shoes," said the Doctor into the space between them.

"My shoes wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for your stupid regeneration. You do look fit, though, ain't gonna lie."

"Hey, what about me?" Complained Jack and just like that the warmth of Rose's hands was gone and the Doctor was left to watch with her hearts hammering.

"Sorry, sometimes I just kind of forget you're there," said Rose with her closest approximation of a straight face.

"Oh, Rose,” said Jack, his voice brimming with hyperbolic sympathy, "it must be your old age catching up with you."

"You can talk; at first I barely recognised you, halfway to looking like fucking Davros- no no no, stay away from me!"

But he'd already lunged and hoisted her over his shoulder and began jumping about while she begged to be let down between screams and laughs and laughs. When he did, he made sure for her to land on her backside but she kept her grip and dragged him down also, until they were like a giggling heap of school children.

"Are you quite two done?" Said the Doctor.

"Never!" They replied in unison. Jack pulled Rose into a fond embrace then gave her a kiss on the temple which she returned with a quick kiss on the lips. "Obviously, I missed you, too," she said. 

Rose let the Doctor pull her back to her unsteady feet for the second time in two chapters, as tangled up as she presently was. "Anyway, I still haven't introduced you to the fam."

"I'm sorry... _Fam_?"

"Believe me," said Ryan, "I've tried to get her to stop."

"I think it's cute," said Yaz.

"Thank you, Yaz. Rose, this is the lovely Yaz who is lovely and Ryan. Who is no fun at all." They both waved.

"And I'm Graham," said Graham, "in case you were wondering."

"Graham's my grandad," said the Doctor.

"And my actual, real life grandad," said Ryan.

"Sooo, what? Adorable cousin?" said Rose pointing at Yaz before turning to point at Jack, "creepy uncle that keeps showing up to family gatherings even though no one wants him there?"

"You say one more mean thing about me and I'm reporting you for bullying." Rose quickly made a heart with her fingers and he tugged her in for another hug. "I lied. Say what you will, I'll always adore you."

"You better, but same" said Rose. To the others: "and it's really nice to meet you, even if the circumstances were… less than ideal."

"At least it's not the end of the world, this time," said the Doctor.

"Speak for yourself," said Rose. "Anyway, if we're doing this, I'm gonna need to get out of this sodding dress and maybe into some trainers."

"The TARDIS might have some of your old stuff kicking about?"

Rose raised an eyebrow either in disbelief or appal at the notion. "We could stop off at Barrel Reach," she suggested.

"Yes, let's," enthused Jack as the Doctor said "do we have to" as petulantly as she was capable. 

"Erm, what's Barrel Reach?" Asked Yaz.

"Black market planet," said Jack, "you can get anything, do anything or well, screw it, be anything and all that can stop you is an empty wallet. The only rule is no cops but don't worry, Yaz, they don't take humans seriously enough to chase you off for at least another, what, sixty years?"

"Oh, come on, Doctor," said Rose, sidling up to her, "it's basically the only place in the universe keeping active record of which frequencies the Jundoon can't currently relay while also guaranteeing that they're not gonna sell you out. I'll need anti-detection equipment, and you can't get any better than Ada's."

"You can from me."

"You don't know the frequencies."

"I can figure them out."

"And you're gonna make me some new clothes while you're at it, yeah?"

"I could. In theory."

"I'll buy you broschki."

The Doctor made a long, melodramatic groan and a wide grin grew across Rose's face, assuming victory. "My one weakness. Fine."

Rose bounced on the balls of her feet and coincided a quick kiss to the Doctor's cheek, before all but skipping off back to the navigation. It didn't matter. The fact that the skin where her lips had touched now felt sticky with lipstick and beneath that far too warm didn't matter. She wouldn't acknowledge it for fear she appear too affected even if it left her marked. 

She resigned herself to the console and together they pulled levers and pressed buttons and turned dials. Strange, she thought, that in the short time Rose had been aboard the TARDIS, they had managed to slip into a symbiotic role that everyone else seemed to be happy to stand back and watch happen. She wondered what Rose's life with her own Doctor was like; if even the most mundane of tasks were performed with a kind of synchronicity that transcended the need for words. 

Once again, they were off. The flight was steadier than the last and not nearly so dramatic despite the protests the TARDIS was making on the subject of touching down. "Oh, come, babe," Rose was saying, "please? For me?" And the Doctor figured that her and the TARDIS were in much the same boat when doing the things Rose asked of them because then they landed. 

"She's worried someone's going to try and jumpstart her or something," the Doctor said, "I'm going to stay nearby; you know, just in case."

"Afraid you're on your own on that one, boss," said Jack, "unless anyone else wants to bore themselves to death while Rose and I catch up in the grimiest bar we can possibly find."

"I thought this was a shopping trip," said Yaz.

"Oh, sure," said Rose, "but this is the kind of place that you make the most of for a few hours and then don't show your face in again for at least another fifty years."

Yaz didn't ask what that meant but she looked at Ryan and the both shrugged in some silent agreement. "Well we're down," she said.

"Actually," said Graham, "I might hang back; my days in grimy bars are over. Besides, they don't make 'em like they did in the eighties."

"Damn, they sure don't. Still wanna see your moves one day, though," said Jack, then laughing when Graham spun once with jazz hands.

The four of them left arm-in-arm, the new friends and the old. It felt like an achievement, although the Doctor could not say why. Something about two lives colliding and functioning as one. Maybe it meant she'd made some right choices in her long, meandering life. Graham, for his part, watched them go with the same kind of fondness playing at his eyes. 

"Why have you really stayed back?" The doctor asked him once they were gone.

"Was about to say the same to you," he replied. 

She thought for a moment. "Let's get tea. Or at least the nearest equivalent."

While true that the TARDIS getting stolen wasn't actually any concern, the Doctor really didn't want to leave her unsupervised where she might get in trouble. She led Graham out onto a wide, bustling street, terraced, brown brick buildings lining each side and a double-sided row of markets stalls, tents, gazebos, freestanding tables, running down the middle. As far as the eye could see were goods and gadgets from all over the galaxy and beyond. Clothes and weapons and more cuisines than the average human could scarce imagine. She gestured Graham to a van-like structure covered in sheets of corrugated metal selling beverages that were more likely than not safe for his consumption.

"Kind of reminds me of Camden," he said. 

"Oh, it's much, much bigger. And safer. You know for a planet whose economy was and is mostly built by outlaws, it's incredibly honest. Then again, most crooks are. You got any money? I don't, never do; very primitive, viva la revolution and all that, but we still need to pay for these."

"I've only got a tenner and maybe some change," he said, rifling through his pockets and wallet. 

"That's fine, good actually" she said, "exchange rates are surprisingly favourable on sterling. Not sure why, maybe they like the pictures? The fifty ps are very collectable."

"I have one with… I think it's wrestling?"

She snatched the coin out of his hand and ignored him when he tried to complain. "Judo, actually. Will this do?" She asked the vendor.

"Oh, yes," they replied with obvious glee, scrambling to add a couple of questionably cake-like accompaniments. "Our finest!" The Doctor thanked them and, hands full, sat at one of the little tables set up outside. She made a cursory glance over to the TARDIS just to make sure she was doing fine and found her as pleasantly blue as ever. 

"So," said Graham, sniffing at his drink and eyeing the bioluminescent, blue cake thing with suspicion, "what's the deal with Rose?"

The Doctor shrugged. "She used to travel with me and then she didn't anymore. Haven't seen her in a long time."

"Doc, I know I'm just an old fool, but I've been round the block a few times and my eyes work well enough to see that there's more to it than ‘ _we hitchhiked across Europe together after uni’_."

"Did you hang back to interrogate me, Graham?"

"Yeah, I did. Are you gonna keep dodging?"

The Doctor didn't answer right away. She watched passers by; most on their own, but here and there a group of friends, a couple walking hand in hand or tentacle in tentacle or hand in tentacle, a father with a child on his shoulders. She wondered what had bought them here, to this place at this time when there was an entire universe available to them. Where would they go next?

"She saved me," she said as a young, purple girl ran and weaved through the crowd, grinning from ear to ear, eventually disappearing under a wall of hanging silks.

"From what?"

"Myself." She tore off a piece of her cake thing and ate it most deliberately. She could feel Graham's eyes on her, debating if or how he should press further. 

The Doctor knew she had been unfair with her friends. It was probable that they forgave her transgressions even if they didn't understand them, but guilt still nagged whenever she shut them down. She had never spoken about Rose to any of them, never would have either. Rose had become a facet of the Doctors life that she wouldn't relinquish, lest she lose the parts of her she still held tight to her chest. She thought then of all the other things she hadn't told them, and wouldn't tell them and wondered if one day she would be forced by circumstance to reveal those, too.

"What happened?" Graham asked in a tone so casual he almost sounded bored. 

The Doctor laughed without humour. _I made a choice I'll never stop regretting even when I know it was the right thing to do._ "She broke my hearts because I asked her to," she said. She wasn't sure why she said it; it wasn't something she'd ever admitted before, barely even to herself except, perhaps, in her dreams.

"Oh," he said, simply, “She's your Grace.”

The Doctor looked up at him then. He had a small, sad smile on his face. _Ah_ , she thought, _he understands_. "She's my Grace," she said, soft as a summer breeze.

As they ate and drank, Graham would ask further questions. It was clear that he was trying to seem as if he weren’t prying. He kept tiptoeing; like if he stepped somewhere too personal too hard, she would scurry off, hide and refuse to entreat. He might not be wrong.

But she did tell him how her and Rose had met. She told him of some of their adventures; not the ones that where the Doctor would almost spill her soul, unravelled and endless or leave it so empty she felt she might cave in entirely, those were hers. But the ones where she had fell in love again and again and again. She’d tell him how it had been Rose who had brought Jack into their fold and she who had kept him there for an eternity. 

"So that glowing stuff is some serious business? It'll really kill her?" Said Graham.

"It might kill everything before that. The time vortex powers the TARDIS and although it has a consciousness, it can't really do much of its own volition. In possession of a human being? With their thoughts and emotions and endless capacity of invention? Anything’s possible. I don't think it'll come to that but still, you never know. Doesn't matter anyway, I'm going to fix it, if it's the last thing I do."

Graham nodded because he understood; if him dying might have saved his Grace, there wouldn’t have been a moment’s hesitation. 

They passed the rest of afternoon as comfortable companions. Small talk that wasn't small, just easy. People watching, making up tales for them, scandals: _fiver says she killed her husband for the life insurance, ten says she's actually on the run for tax evasion, but it was actually her husband committing the fraud but she killed him not know she was implicated, why does the husband always have to be dead?_ Bimbling back the TARDIS and _no don't touch that Graham, in fact, don't touch anything, just look._

The rest of the group crashed into the TARDIS about three hours after them, looking both dishevelled and bright and each carrying various bags and boxes that the Doctor was certain she didn't want to know the contents of. 

Rose had, apparently, had a complete makeover during the outing; she now wore loose jeans, a Sex Pistols t-shirt and trainers, her hair was down in its' natural waves and she carried a leather jacket over her forearm. In one hand was an oversized, overstuffed tote and in the other, a pair of grease stained paper bags.

"Here," she said, holding the bags out, which the Doctor took with reverence, "don't say I never get you anything." Rose ran her hand from the top of her head to the Doctors'. "Better."

"We did karaoke!" Said Yaz. 

"Is there even much Earth music to choose from here in this century?" Asked the doctor, looking up though she mostly just wanted to eat her broschki. Preferably alone so she wouldn’t have to share. 

"Not unless if you're really into Alanis Morissette," said Rose, "but we made do. You've still got lipstick on your face, you know." She rubbed her thumb across the doctors cheek a couple of times then laughed. "Yeah, you're gonna have to sort that out yourself, it ain't coming off. What about you guys, anyway? You just hang around in here?"

"No," said Graham, "we got a bite to eat and drink just over yonder. Can you believe she made me pay?"

"You're a gent, Graham," said Yaz. 

"And a sucker," said Ryan.

"And _you_ ," said Rose pointing a finger accusingly at the Doctor, "never change. At least I'm hoping not. Don't suppose you've had any bright ideas on my predicament?" 

"For now, only one, but it's a long shot."

"One shot's better than no shot."

"Me, too, actually," piped Jack, "but it's unsavoury so I say we try yours first."

" _Rassilon_ ," said the Doctor, "well, let's just pray this one works, then. Right, to start, we're getting back out there because we'll need new clothes. And just to pre warn: no shoes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading x
> 
> Up next: we see if I can adequately plot an adventure!


	3. The Waters of Lyraecia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got 100 kudos! Considering I thoroughly expected, like, maybe 3 people would read this, that's pretty rad.

The Doctor squinted up at the twin suns and took a deep breath of the freshest natural air the cosmos had to offer. Her friends followed her out of the TARDIS, one by one, sighing or gasping or _oohing_ as they padded out into the plush grove of Lyraecian wildflowers, best known for their uncanny ability to just not die and their pleasantness underfoot.

Yaz had wondered over to a bubbling stream a few yards away and was leaning precariously over the river bed to peer into the depths of the crystal-clear waters.

"Careful," the Doctor called, "remember what I said: the waters here are sacred; you can't touch them without permission."

Yaz waved her off flippantly but at least she took a step back. She was wearing her hair down for a change, claiming that she might as well considering they looked like they belonged to a cult and people in cults always have long, free flowing hair. The Doctor thought they looked more like a congregation in their all white getups, though she supposed some might argue that there wasn't much of a difference.

"I could live here, you know," said Ryan, "like them people who go off and disappear into the woods and live off leaves or whatever, yeah, I think I could that if it was here."

"Mind if I join you?" Said Graham.

"As long as we're not sharing a tent."

"I'll share a tent with you, Graham," said Jack.

"I am _begging_ with you this time," said Ryan, " _please_ stop flirting with my grandad on front of me. Like, just wait until I'm out of range."

“Spoilsport.”

Last out was Rose, back in a dress but one that looked markedly less restricting than what she'd been wearing the day before; more Grecian, less cocktail. When she walked, her legs kicked out of two slits that stopped so high up her thighs that, if she didn't know better, the Doctor would have sworn that she was purposely trying to give her a double heart attack. 

"As fun as Black Barrel is," Rose said, fixing a bobby pin that was trying to fall out, "it could never beat getting outside and it not smelling like cat piss."

“You’re a London girl,” said Jack, “you should be used to it.”

She stuck her tongue out at him because, for some unfathomable reason, the pair had decided that their every interaction had to be conducted as if they were long suffering siblings. Perhaps it was attempt to simplify their affection for one another. The Doctor knew, though he had never said as much, that Jack considered Rose more important to him than near on anyone in the universe. She could not imagine what it was like to have ones very existence so pinpointed to the actions of a single person. Every time he did not die serving as a reminder of someone, until a day ago, had been lost to him. To both of them. 

When he went back to teasing Ryan, Rose bent down and plucked a densely petalled flower from the ground with a tug and held it against her nose, inhaling deeply. Once satisfied, she stood, glanced at the Doctor and without preamble, tucked it behind her ear. "It suits you," she whispered, though no one else was paying attention to them. 

"Thanks" the Doctor whispered back, trying not to read into it.

"What's here, then, Doc?" asked Graham, suddenly almost standing between them. It was possible she was already regretting mentioning anything to him.

"Really exciting, actually, hopefully, maybe," said the Doctor, "because if all goes well, we might get to see some magic."

"I thought you said magic wasn't real," said Yaz who was just about re-joining them. She eyed the Doctor's new accessory but kept whatever she was thinking to herself.

"Right you are, Yaz, gold star. Actually, take two. I love to know that someone actually listens to what I'm saying. No, it doesn't exist, but I don't know the science works here - don't say anything - so we're just going to call it magic. Also, ‘magic’ suits better, don't you think?"

"It does kind of feel like we could wonder off and find a gingerbread house," said Ryan.

Rose laughed. "Really, Doctor, that's it, is it?" She said, "we're on the hunt for a wicked witch so she might grant us a spell. I know you said it was a long shot but honestly, I expected better from you."

"Oh shush, we're not _hunting_ for anything. Like I said, we just need permission. That said, the waters are at their most powerful at the base so that is where we are heading." Without looking behind her, the Doctor couldn't guarantee that the others were following, but she marched on anyway. Yaz, at least, could usually be relied on in that regard. She was kind of like Rose in that sense: always ready to soldier on to the next adventure. 

She led them, or she hoped she was leading them, downhill, following the twinkling sound of the running river when it wasn’t in sight. Now and then, the Doctor would catch glimpses of white flitting among the trees like ghosts in her periphery, gone as quick as they came. So, the gangs’ presence was known; good, they shouldn't have to wait too long.

"You _do_ know where you're going, don't you?" called Ryan.

She spun so she was walking backwards, silently praying that a branch wouldn’t snake out and send her tumbling. "Don't you trust me?' she said, hand over her left heart in mock offense. Her friends were all there, as expected, and they all looked at each other like they were about to unionize. She spun back. Truth be told, she was only half sure they were on the right track. Well, three quarters. Lyraecia was a small planet, to be sure, but that didn't mean it wasn't home to an expansive, varied ecosystem with a thousand similar waterways to traverse. This one looked about right: ethereal, picturesque, perfect temperature for summertime swimming (she guessed), plus the fact that someone was making an effort to ensure they were behaving themselves pointed to _oh, Doctor, you're so clever and well-travelled._ But it wasn't a guarantee. 

The sound of crashing water, however, was a sign she'd been waiting for. _Good job, Doctor. Gold star_. They stepped out into a clearing dominated by a large pool hosting a fifty-seven-and-a-half-foot waterfall. The tree-filtered sun glittered against it and reflected onto the surrounding area like disco lights. 

"This is the place," said the Doctor, though she imagined it must be obvious. 

The others stood beside her in wonderment and, for once, didn't say anything. It was the sort of place that asked for quiet, that you might just watch and listen and breath. Close your eyes for a moment and forget that a universe plagued with catastrophe and heartbreak existed. All that mattered here was mind and body; the rest could wait. 

Of course, that was easy enough alone, with six it'll only be so long before someone breaks. 

"What are we looking at, exactly?" said Jack, "aside from the obvious. I've never even heard of this planet."

The Doctor staged herself in front of them as if preparing for a performance, dramatically throwing back the tail of her coat so she could put her hands on her hips. "Well," she said enthusiastically, "I'd like to introduce you to the Purity Spring of Lyraecia. Well, not a spring, spring's up there somewhere. Purity Pool, if you like. Anyway, the reason you've never heard of this place, Jack, is simply that most people haven't; it's a fairly guarded secret, not completely, but unless you've need if it, it's existence will probably won't be revealed to you. And, well, you can’t die."

"But you knew of it," said Yaz, "so why did you need purifying? Bad hangover?"

"I didn't. I just know stuff. Lots of stuff. Payed a visit once when I didn't need to; the locals weren't best pleased. They were perfectly nice about it, mind, just it's all about keeping this stuff," she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the pool, "protected."

"Why?" Said Ryan. "Like, it looks nice and everything, but that's no reason to get pissy about visitors."

"Sure, it is; tourists have no respect. Okay, so, you know how I said that I didn't know how the science things on this planet worked? I'm taking, primarily, about that thing. I've never been able to get a proper look at it because I've never been allowed to take any away to study but if I could have... they have healing properties I guess you'd call them. They quite literally purify a body of things that aren't supposed to be there: unfriendly parasites, foreign diseases, who-knows-how-those-got-there objects, you name it. Gone. _Poof_. Finito. Maybe it can zip the time vortex right out of Rose's pretty head." 

"Could it cure cancer?" Asked Graham.

"Ah, well, no, because those are your own cells; they've gone bad, but they're still yours. That's the weird thing; say you had, I don't know, a replacement hip or a err... kidney transplant then bad luck, they're gone too."

"So, it can't cure cancer," said Rose, "but it _could_ fix your botched boob job."

"Sort of? It would get rid of the implants but not much else. Any more questions?"

"When can I get in?" 

"When the Lyraecians say you can. Or at least whoever's spokesperson-ing these days. Touching the water without permission is punishable by death, or any other way they see fit so, you know, I wouldn't do it. Other than that, really nice people." 

Rose pursed her lips and nodded, shifting over to the water’s edge with her hands behind her back, half swaying, half skipping. There, she looked back at them and grinned mischievously, putting a foot out over the surface, dipping her toes dangerously. Probably at the look in the Doctors face, she pulled it back but still laughed as if she hadn't. Then she moved along and when the Doctor saw what she was aiming for she called _please don't_ , only to be ignored.

Rose leapt as light as a ballerina over onto a rock in the water that stood high enough to remain dry, the first of a dozen stepping stones that lead towards and behind the waterfall. Once she was sure she was steady, she jumped again, further towards the centre.

"Rose, if you fall-"

"I'm not going to fall." She hopped over to the next stone, getting uncomfortably close to the spray of the crashing water. Then another.

"I would suggest you stop right there," called a clear, commanding voice. It was singular but came from all directions, reverberating off the trees and throughout the clearing, the sound of the waterfall doing nothing to temper it. 

A lone, human-like figure stepped out of the shadows. Like them, they wore all white and no shoes. Unlike them, they clearly belonged to this planet. They looked familiar to the doctor; she had no clue as to how long this planets’ primary species lived, so she couldn’t guess if she seen them during her last visit. "What brings you here," they said with that same surrounding effect. 

It was Graham who spoke first. "Our friend needs help, and we think your super Volvic might do the trick."

"We wish for use of your sacred waters," said the Doctor, hastily, "they are known to purge even the most desperate of darknesses, and her ailment will kill her if something drastic isn't done soon."

They peered over at Rose who still stood with the length of her skirt bundled in her hands. "It is powerful, this thing inside her, clinging to her cells, I see that," they said, "but I cannot fathom why I should allow a girl who comes to our most holy of places and sees fit to play games among our treasure. No, I think not, I do not find her worthy."

"But-"

"Do _not_ speak back to me, _Time Lord_. I am H'riz, chief protector of Lyraecia and I demand that you leave these lands. All of you," and they made sure to place a hard, confidence-shattering look on every one of them. 

The Doctor scrambled for something else to say but struggled to conjure an argument that wouldn’t shut down any chance at a negotiation. "What happened to your benevolence," she cried finally as H'riz turned to leave, trying to not sound desperate. She realised, suddenly, how low on ideas she had been for helping Rose, and how badly she wanted this one to work, even if she'd been sure from the start that it wouldn't. "In the days of Empress Vo, this was a place of hope, of healing. Never in her overseeing would you have turned away someone in need, regardless of the content of their character."

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" Complained Rose. 

"And yet despite her endless kindness, our most loved Vo was murdered in her own home, by none other than a poor soul who she had induced into our care. He wasn't the first to try, only the first to succeed. Our right to refuse the outside worlds keeps us safe."

"Yes, I know that part of your history, but isolation will only make you vulnerable."

"And that's why we learned to fight." And with that they pulled out a sword. Except, they didn't pull it out: there was nowhere for it to be kept inside the liquid silk robe they wore, instead it materialised in a motion as if they had decided they required a sword to be in their hand, therefore there was. 

"I told you, fam," said the Doctor, not taking her eyes off of the impressive weapon in front of her, " _magic_."

"Do you mock us?" Suddenly, three dozen more figures emerged, all brandishing similarly styled instruments, heavy but intricately patterned with fluid, naturalistic designs. Mid to long range: spears, throwing knives, bow and arrows. In a distant treetop appeared to be someone with a sniper rifle, it didn't exactly fit the aesthetic but certainly sent a message. 

The Doctor sent her surrendering hands up and, in her periphery, she saw her friends, excluding Rose, do the same. H'riz stepped forward in warning and the Doctor stepped back. A mistake.

The water reached half way up her calf and she almost fell backward at the sudden loss of balance. She flailed her arms, saving herself as the latent, visceral power tried to work out her very being before she could even come-to enough to pull away. When she did, the weapons were poised in her direction and there was no time to beg for forgiveness as a hand was raised, a waiting signal that the Doctor knew, when dropped, that she was dead. She closed her eyes, apologised, and hoped it wouldn't hurt too much. 

She felt the wind of attack fly past her before she even registered the splash. A scream. A cry. Then, a thousand voices, a hive of raging wasps.

She opened her eyes, seeing the Lyraecians murmuring to each other in a kind of confusion, then her friends who were staring with panic and horror. She turned to see... what? She didn't want to see but then she had to. She did and her legs gave way. In the middle of the pool was Rose, and the Doctor found herself in the mind of paintings of Ophelia's floating corpse. Only those paintings were never quite so gruesome. Never had Ophelia had a spear in her chest or an arrow through her throat or anything else that was now protruding from Rose's still form. And if she did, she would have bled red.

Rose bled gold as the ichor of the Olympian gods. It flowed from her wounds in streams and spread across the water in vines. The tendrils snaked out, reaching away from her, then retracting again until she was cocooned in a nest of golden thread, still floating just below the surface. Then her eyes opened and they glowed gold too. Then her mouth opened and she screamed. The air bubbles obscured her face, but even under water, among the voices and the crashing waves, they could still hear the awfulness of it.

The Doctor could only watch as she thrashed, then still as she recovered and pulled herself out of the water onto a rock. Rose stood on that rock, hair and dress clinging to her skin like a desperate child, a beautiful, macabre pin cushion. The gold turned black and it stained her dress so only small areas of white could still be seen. There were so many wounds. So many places to bleed. All except her eyes, which still glowed fierce and bright and warning, two suns verging on a supernova. 

Then she started pulling the things that jutted out of her. An arrow from her leg. A knife from her forearm. A short sword from her stomach. She did not flinch and her eyes did not waver from H'riz, though if she was actually seeing them, it was hard to say. She pushed a thick, harpoon type spear through her chest and the Doctor had to stop herself retching at the sight of the hole it left before filling again with lightless black. Rose saved the arrow in her throat for last. She grasped it tight and tugged, once, twice and on the third try it ripped out and the blood gushed from her mouth and neck and for a moment the Doctor though that this one might actually kill her. But after a moment, Rose tossed the arrow into the pool with the rest.

When she climbed back into the water, the submerged black returned to gold. The clearing was deathly silent except for the sound of wading and the waterfall. The Doctor looked around herself and found the attackers not as she expected: prepared for another round of assault. Instead, no weapons were to be seen and the people of Lyraecia sat on their knees, head bowed, hands held out to their sides with their palms open skywards. 

A dripping Rose was then stood beside her, still as a glacier. 

_She is come. She is come. She is come._

"She is come," said H'riz, because they spoke for their people, "as our stories have foretold. _A being of light and deathlessness,_ she holds the power of our sacred waters in her hands and crushes it under the weight of her own. Here to bring about a new era for Lyraecia, the last that shall stretch for eternity. 

Forgive us, we did not know, but rest assured that we are humbled."

The doctor felt the brush of fingertips on her shoulder and when she looked up, she saw that Rose was beginning to tremble. The light in her eyes flickered to brown - her real eyes - then back to gold. Whatever the time vortex had done to save her, it was dissipating and sucking Roses strength with it. 

"Help me," she said. The Doctor scrambled to her feet just in time to catch her as she collapsed, nearly tumbling under the newly dead weight. But she held firm, one arm wrapped around her waist and other around her shoulders. Within seconds Jack was there and taking her in a bridal carry and - for the first time in a long time - she wished for one of her older bodies, one that wasn’t five foot six and was capable of doing the job instead. 

"Follow," said H'riz and no one questioned them, not even the Doctor, not even Jack who was carrying Rose to wherever they lead them.

They all travelled further downhill, a procession of Time Lord, humans and an ever-growing number of Lyraecians. Graham, Yaz and Ryan had jogged to catch up to the Doctor and walk by her side.

_She is come. She is come. She is come._

"What does this mean?" Asked Yaz, sounding a little desperate, a little confused. 

"I'm not sure," said the Doctor, a lot desperate, plenty confused. Lyraecian faith was almost as much of a mystery to her as their science. The notion of some chosen one was not unusual. A being that would bring about a golden era for the faithful that, in the Doctors experience, rarely ever came but here, now, these people seemed to think it had. And that Rose was it. The main concern was what they thought was supposed to happen next, and what would become of them when it didn't. But Rose had to live first.

The mass accumulated outside a structure that grew from the ground. It was clearly designed, considered, but nothing about it suggested it had been built. Foliage and dirt covered its' every surface and low-lying flowers carpeted the floor leading inside.

H'riz paused outside the towering entrance. "Hand her over," she said to Jack who did not move, "you cannot enter here but we need to take her inside to care for her. You," she directed at the Doctor, "may enter but only if you first agree that you will remain by her side. You will not wonder."

"Fine," she said immediately, "that's fine. Jack?"

He watched her for a moment, stared into her eyes with such intensity that she almost felt the need to look away. Perhaps, if she were younger and less sure, she would have. Then he nodded and handed Rose into the care of a tall, muscular pair who proceeded to handle her with such reverence that he visibly relaxed at the sight. 

"See you on the other side," said the Doctor to her friends.

"Look after her," said Jack.

Inside put the Doctor's mind in that of a cathedral, and had the walls been made of stone, no doubt that their hurried footsteps would have been heard for miles. They travelled down a long corridor then turned into another. The Doctor knew soon before long that she would regret not paying closer attention to where they were going, but it was hard to care about the journey out when Rose's face was a shade paler than it had been only two minutes before. 

Eventually, mercifully, they arrived at what was evidentially their destination. A natural corridor lead into a distinctly unnatural circular room, classical in style with stone pillars holding up the domed roof. Vines still dripped here and there but that was because nature would always prevail, in the end. 

Rose was lain on a pedestal on the far side of the room and as soon as her head was rested, half a dozen new figures began attending her.

They forced more water out of her lungs than should have been possible, followed by blood that was spotted with black. And again. And again. Until the blood only ran red. Then they incised her where her wounds had healed over and did the same. They had to work fast, for every cut they made would soon glow gold and try to reclose.

"Wait!" Exclaimed the Doctor when they went to remove her anti-tracking cuff, "she's being hunted," she explained hurriedly, "Jundoon. And that's presently the only thing keeping her from being found. See," she said holding up her own wrist, "our friends and I have them too, for her safety, which you say you care about." This seemed to satisfy and they desisted, carrying on instead with their other ministrations. 

Before long, Rose lay motionless aside from the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, no longer heaving or shuddering with clawing breaths, but something more reminiscent of sleep. They had stripped her of her gore laden dress and had adorned her in midnight blue and golden trimmings. Either the Lyraecians had some exceptionally trained tailors or the garment had already been waiting: perfectly fitted. Her skin had been lovingly scrubbed clean; the black that slathered her neck and face that and had rendered her unrecognisable was washed away. 

The floor ran red with blood stained water and the black dotted it like oil. The Doctor, when all but H'raz had left, pulled an emergency vial from her inside coat pocket and bottled some up before tucking it back away. It wasn't there's to stop her from taking.

She did not imagine that her questions would get answers if she asked them. So instead she said nothing and seated herself on the pedestal, her hip pressed against Rose's shoulder. She stroked a lock of stray hair off her face and placed it with the rest that had been artfully arranged with fresh flowers. Remembering the one that Rose had earlier tucked behind her ear, she pulled it out and pressed it to her nose, letting the perfume ease the anxiety in her chest just an inch.

"I suppose I should thank you," said H'raz, breaking the quiet so suddenly that the Doctor almost jumped.

"For what?" She said. 

"That is your ship at the hilltop, no? You brought us our saviour."

"You almost killed her."

"That is foretold."

"Was me being in here foretold, too?"

"Yes." They said. "' _She shall arrive in gold and matrimony and keep both at her side 'til daybreak.'_ Our scriptures are quite beautiful if you could hear us in our own tongue. Alas."

"So, what happens at daybreak?" She asked, ignoring the word ‘matrimony’ and trying to appear as if she weren’t ignoring it.

"Our fate guides us there and no further."

"You don't know, basically.” She ran her hands through her hair and clasped them together, looking back down at Rose and wishing her awake. “So, what are you thinking, then? That she'll unleash her final form and you will all be transformed into gods of the mortal realm?"

"Something like that." With that they stood, "there's nothing more to be done until she wakes. I trust you'll watch over her in the meantime?"

"While your friends outside make sure we don't leave?"

"Yes." And then they left the Doctor and her sleeping beauty, with nothing to do but wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. Obviously.


	4. Ceremonials

"I think I may have made a mistake bringing you here, Rose Tyler," said the Doctor. She was twirling a piece of Rose's hair around her finger, over and over, although Rose herself still lay unconscious. "I _am_ sorry, you know, this really isn’t the way I expected things to happen; I mean, there was going to be that chance that this was just gonna be complete waste of time but that’s true for anything. Hey, remember that time I left you and Mickey on that spaceship with no guarantee I’d come back and no way for you to leave, all because I was too busy being stupid? Yeah, I’m sorry about that, too. Pretty sure I’ve apologised for that one before, though. Still, just thought of it and you can never say sorry too many times. Well, you can. Oh, and I’m sorry for rambling at you; just never imagined for a second you be reckoned for, like, some planet-saving goddess. "

Rose made a snorting sound, startling the Doctor, then sucked in a pained gasp. " _Shitting death_. Oh, fuck me that hurts." Her voice was raw, ragged. She scrunched her face and held a hand around her neck, taking a few deep breaths through her mouth like the cool air might sooth her, but wincing each time instead.

"You did rip an arrow out of your throat," said the Doctor, aiming for sympathetic and failing spectacularly, "which, by the way, was pretty gross. Not as bad as the harpoon that left a gaping hole in your sternum, but up there."

"Yeah, I vaguely remember that," said Rose, who had switched to a breathy whisper, the use of her voice too painful to properly utilize. "Anyway, planet-saving goddess, you said? Sounds ridiculous: explain. Hey, hey, hey, don't stop," she added when the Doctor dropped her hair, "it's quite relaxing and I’ve been through an ordeal."

"Rose, you were almost ripped apart. That’s not an _ordeal_ , that's... how is that even possible? Like, whatever else the time vortex is doing to you, it’s not letting you die, not yet. And now – and now the Lyraecians have seen you basically resurrect yourself, and think you’re the one that's going to give them the power they need to defend this planet from some prophesised mass exodus. Though no one seems to have an answer on how this is meant to happen. So good luck with that. By the way, how long have you been awake?"

Rose waved a nonchalant hand. "Oh, long enough to hear you singing. That was cute, by the way. You actually have a half decent voice this time around." She sighed, then, finally opened her eyes, grinning. "Welp, at least someone's finally recognising my worth. It's about time."

"And do you wish for me to get someone? So, your holiness might be able to talk properly again? You sound like a fifteen-year-olds’ moped."

Rose shook her head, slightly, "not yet." She shifted like she was trying to get comfortable and maybe go back to sleep, before realising she was lying on a literal bed of rock and it wasn't going to happen.

"Rose?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you jump?"

She looked into the Doctor's eyes, whatever casualness at the situation she was trying to exude, gone, and shrugged, barely moving. "It's what we do, innit? I like to think I'm not as stupid as I used to be, but, well, sometimes I am."

"If you'd been killed-"

"Doctor, _don't_. Please." Even in her whispers, she was difficult to defy. "I wasn't thinking, alright? My judgement lapsed; I don't actually have any desire to be reckless in this... thing. At the end of the day, I just want to be able to go home to my kids and still be alive when they hit their teens, you know?"

"Kids, plural?" Rose held up three fingers. The Doctor smiled at her then looked away. "I've always wondered. What you did with your life, if it was good, if I did right by you. God, the things I would have given to know if you were happy... Are you? In spite of this mess?"

“Of course, I am. Got everything I wanted, didn't I? Not the way I thought I would, but at the end of the day, whose life turns out exactly as they expect?”

“Three whole children was a part of your plan, was it?”

"Obviously not, let’s be real. Kids weren’t part of any plan, at all; never got that far. But I got pregnant pretty quick and just... went for it, I guess. Why not? And, _oh_ ,” Rose’s eyes lit up in the metaphorical sense, brighter than the literal, “he was a doddle, like, the easiest baby in the universe. Like a cute little doll. So, when I got pregnant second time around, we just sort of went, hey, what's one more? They can best friends. As if. The universe punished us for our hubris and gave me twins. I adore them, obviously, and all three adore each other, but carrying two at once made nine months feel like fifteen years."

"That's when you started having your episodes."

"Mmhmm.” She looked over at the outside vista, wistful. “I just... I don’t want to have to keep disappearing for days or weeks at a time just in case this or that idea works, only to come back like sorry, guys, still dying. And then, what if there isn’t anything that can be done and it's all for nothing? What if I’m just wasting the little time I have left?"

"You never know, someone or something here might help; if not, I’ll figure it out. I'll get you home, good as new." I'll kill if I have to. I’ll die if I have to.

"You've said that. But I don’t think I have long left, and even you can't solve everything."

"Sure, I can; I'm extraordinarily clever."

"Extraordinarily full of yourself, more like."

"That, too."

Rose laughed briefly before the sound turned into hacking coughs. She sat up, heaving, another fit of coughing making her body convulse, her face turning a bright, reddish hue. The Doctor scrambled to do... something. She was flailing, not being particularly helpful and instead put her hand on Rose’s back and hoped the gesture was appreciated. 

"Look” she said when Rose could finally breath again and rested her head against her shoulder, “there's no reason for you to be in pain like this. I'm going to call someone over, get you sorted. Nope. No complaining, no point for needless suffering; there’s enough of that about already."

The Doctor shuffled out into the hallway, casting her eyes around and finding no one, but before she could call for assistance, as if from nowhere, one of the earlier attendants was brushing past her to get to Rose's side, a tray of different coloured tonics and salves in hand. Rose’s reluctance at the sudden fussing was obvious, but she looked over to the Doctor and upon seeing her not move to intervene, she sat diligently as all kinds of lotions and potions were rubbed into the spots where her wounds had been. She frowned when a bottle of silvery liquid was held up against her lips but took it all the same. 

"That was weird," said Rose once they were alone again, although they'd lost all pretence of privacy, "gotta say, though, whatever that stuff was, it's done a treat. Do you think they'd give me some? I could use it on scraped knees."

"I don't think there's much they wouldn't do if you asked."

"A back rub could be nice." 

Immediately, someone new was rushing in. A mortified Rose flustered and stuttered, eventually able to send the girl away with apologies and an insistence that she had been joking. “You can shut up,” she said to the Doctor as she sat down beside her.

“I didn’t say anything!”

"Didn’t have to. Still, I don't like it: being so... watched." Rose scooted over and leant in so their faces were close to touching. They sat side-by-side, shoulders pressed together, heads inclined. A secret club of two. "How good do you think their hearing is," she whispered. 

"Not this good, I imagine," the Doctor whispered back. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but she also didn’t want move away.

"How come it's just us, anyway? Where are the others?"

"Still outside somewhere; they weren't allowed in.” The Doctor was struck by a pang of guilt at not having thought of her friends. There was no point for it now, though, even if they were presently stranded on an alien planet by themselves. Besides, they were survivors, and Lyraecia was hardly hardened territory, providing they hadn’t already started making enemies. “I’m only here because, apparently, the consensus around town is that we're married. You haven’t been spreading rumours again, have you? I know what you’re like with playground gossip."

"If that was the case, I sure as hell wouldn't be married to you.” She laughed when the Doctor shoved her. ( _Slanderous lies!_ ) “Then again, I suppose we are. Sort of. At least I am; that's probably where the confusion’s coming in. Sorry, is that weird?"

The truth was that the Doctor had been trying desperately not to think about it. It was one thing to know Rose had lived a life with someone else, it was another thing entirely to know, categorically, that it could have been hers. That, had she been a little more selfish, it would have been. "Meh. A bit. Hey, would that technically make me a dad? Again. No, that really is weird. Biological non-dad? Half-dad? Wait. Second, super-special, secret dad."

"The twins do take after you, it must be said."

"Oh?"

"Too clever for their own good and they know it."

"That’s my-? Is ‘twins’ a gender?"

"Girls. Identical, too, so that’s fun.” Rose threw her head back in loud laughter, giving up on their attempts to remain incognito. “Okay, so, a few weeks ago, they came to me asking what an orgasm was because- no, wait, _listen_ , because they found my vibrator, no joke, and instead of asking me about it so I could lie to them, as one does, they decided to do their own research. I mean, they’re six, and I have safe search on so they were only ever going to find so much on like, wikipedia, but that’s really beside the point. I hate the twenty first century and my beside drawers are now firmly locked."

"Honestly, I don’t even know what you want me to say to that. What did you tell them?"

"Oh, the truth. Literally, at that point there was no getting away from it, they would have only found sneaky ways to get the truth. At least that way I could explain why they should never speak of this again to anyone, ever. What they went off questioning, like, my dad or someone? Plus side, though: I don't know what fear feels like anymore; puberty's gonna be a synch."

Eventually, even the illusion of solitude had to end. Twilight had settled over them, tinting the pale stone pink and casting soft shadows of them across the floor that blurred into a singular form. When the first sun set completely, the sky transformed to purple in anticipation of the second, and to take its’ place was H'riz. They appeared at the entrance way, flanked by the pair that had carried Rose in hours before, a formidable looking threesome. 

"We should start preparations," they said. The Doctor could tell they were trying to sound amiable, either to create an illusion that they were being given a choice, or simply to reduce the risk that they’d be refused.

Rose looked to the Doctor, the same as she had when the attendant had come, for answers she didn't have. Instead, she shrugged an apology and got an eye roll in return. "Sure, why not," Rose said, jumping of the pedestal and holding back a hand. "Come along, wife." Now it was the Doctors turn to roll her eyes, but she took the offering anyway, leaping in the same fashion. 

"Can I ask what the preparations are for, exactly?" Asked the Doctor.

"You cannot."

"May I?" Said Rose.

"Of course."

Rose lifted the Doctor's and her hands in fist-pumping triumph. "This is, hands down, the best thing that has ever happened to me. Seriously, Doctor, you need more people telling you that your opinion isn’t wanted. Humility can be your new word for the day."

"Of course, we would welcome her thoughts if you desired it," said H'riz.

"Oh, absolutely not. Still," she said, putting a finger of the Doctors lips when she tried to complain and bursting out a giggle at her indignation, "I _would_ like to get what's going on. I’m pretty sure I know less than anyone here."

"Do you know much about this planet, Rose Tyler?"

"You’ve got a magical river."

H'riz laughed softly; a far more human gesture than the Doctor had seen of them so far. "We have many things, that being one of them, and, in times gone by, people like you came from across the galaxy for use of our sacred waters and we welcomed them gladly. No other medicine in the universe has a one hundred percent success rate, you know. But, for as long as we have tended those in need, we have beheld a prophecy, of a daughter who would come to us in our own time of need." H'raz said no more and the Doctor and Rose exchanged looks. They shrugged simultaneously.

"You think I'm the daughter, I take it?"

"Evidently. What our earth provides is powerful, but it cannot stop death. Yet, you walk beside me when only hours ago your body was all but torn apart."

"That was a dick move, by the way."

"It is our right to defend against trespassers, regardless of who they might turn out to be. I would hope our time together is more pleasant, here on out."

"Right, doesn't really answer my original question, though: what is it we’re actually doing? Because you do realise I don’t _actually_ know shit about how to save your planet or whatever it is you think I’m supposed to do? Like, as long as we're clear on that."

"Come the morning, before the sun rises, we shall hold a ceremony in which you are inducted as our… spiritual leader, I suppose is the best way to put it. Based on what our stories have told us, we prepared what we hope will be the first step. The rest starts with you with us to help as you need it."

"Can I refuse?"

They stopped then, turning and looking Rose straight in the eyes. Even the Doctor felt uncomfortable under their gaze and it wasn’t even focused on her. H'riz sighed and shook their head disparagingly and once again they seemed rather like a human. "Look, we cannot say what you will or will not do, but you must understand; without something to protect it, this planet will soon be discovered and ravaged and we – not just my people, but all that inhabit these lands and seas and mountains- will be slaughtered with it. For years now we have faced more and more invaders, and the only thing standing between us and something we cannot fight back is time. You may choose to abandon us to that fate, we won't stop you. At least, _I_ won't. Naturally, I cannot speak for my kinsmen; we are only people, in the end. But that is your choice to make."

"Prophecies are a strange thing, though," said the Doctor, "especially ones as old as yours. Fact is, if you've got one for a millennia or two or five, eventually something's bound to happen that fits. How can you know that, just because one part came true, that the rest will, too?"

"Once, many of us would have argued the same. Did you know that the murder of our empress was also foretold? It is part of the same text and was said that the night of her death, the skies would open and our temples would flood. It had not rained here for a century, yet we woke the next day and our feet were wet." 

The Doctor couldn't deny that it was one hell of a coincidence, if she were going to try and convince herself that that's what it was. Her most likely guess was that someone had told them the future long enough into the past that it wouldn't cause suspicion. That it could become superstition. She wondered if maybe it was the Masters work for a moment, but then decided that he had never had that kind of patience. Or subtlety. Some other devious Time Lord, perhaps? Maybe a drunken Jack would one day crash land after a week long bender and recount this tale, only for it to be retold a thousand times and turn to legend. The ramblings of the inebriated had informed bigger, stranger things throughout time and space for as long as either had existed.

Eventually, H'riz led them into a spacious enclosed chamber, lit bright with cleverly positioned mirrors. The dirt walls were painted in the colours of all of nature's glory, flora and fauna and weather and sea and amongst them, terrible, beautiful faces, screaming or laughing, it was hard to tell. In the centre was what looked like a pyre but H'riz assured them that it wasn't. _Fires don't do well indoors,_ they said. _'Indoors' is subjective_ , the Doctor said, but honestly, she had no idea what that was supposed to mean. There were times when she garnered the ability to be profound, but her brain was too riddled with fortunes and Rose Tylers to conjure it in the present.

Behind the not-pyre was a set of steps that led to a hidden platform at its’ top; there, Rose and the Doctor were seated in two plush, backless chairs facing each other. There was much more room than the Doctor was expecting, enough that a dozen other people could stand around them and they'd still have plenty of leg room.

“The main ceremony involves you both,” said H'riz, “and for it to work, your souls should be firmly connected.”

“This isn’t a sex thing, is it?” said Rose, because of course that would be her first thought.

“If you think that would lead to a more positive outcome, it could be.”

She shook her head while pursing her lips. “That won’t be necessary, I’m sure.”

“In that case, while we work around and on you, getting you ready for the morning, you should maintain eye contact where possible. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul.”

“That’s a very human cliché,” said the Doctor.

“Is it?,” asked H'riz, “well, it appears in one of our scriptures, so perhaps they got it from us.” The Doctor was more inclined to put stock in her Jack theory.

When they heeded the instruction, Rose opened her eyes comically wide and the Doctor pulled a face to make her laugh, pleased when she succeeded. They made an effort to behave themselves when people actually started working but more than once, when someone started fiddling with the Doctors clothes or hair, Rose would burst into giggles and wave an apology to those trying to take their tasks seriously. The Doctor _did_ complain when a gentleman kindly took her coat, only to throw it over the edge onto the dirt floor below.

Sometimes, someone would enter just to say a few hushed words over them then leave. Someone else might swipe sweet oil across their lips or butter lotion over their knuckles. The Doctor had never been so pampered in all her life. And all the while, she sat watching Rose, studying her, dissecting every minute change of her features from the last time they were truly together. The creases around her mouth, the ghosts of her laugh lines, her frown lines. Something about the way she held herself; like she was more aware than she had been before. But the bones of her were the same. The never-ending joy behind her eyes.

The Doctor allowed herself the selfishness for a moment, just a moment, to wonder what life would have been like if he'd asked Rose to stay all those years. If he'd said screw that other guy and run to the stars with me. What would it have been like to watch her become the person sat in front of her; would she even exist? Would either of them? 

For a long while, they were alone. Or as far as the Doctor could tell, they were alone. Still watching. Once or twice, Rose's mouth moved as if she was about to say something before changing her mind and clamping it firmly shut. Once or twice, the Doctor would do the same. She didn't know what it is was she wanted to say, and even if she did, she was sure it was nothing she should. 

By the time anyone came into view, the Doctor felt as if one of her hearts might burst right out of her chest and that it would have been a relief. 

Three figures stood behind her. She knew because there were three behind Rose, too and she could feel their actions being mirrored. They each held a small, ceramic bowl. The ones stood directly behind them dipped in their two forefingers and brought them out coated in metallic paint. They did not look down when they swept impossibly fine lines of pigment across their faces. Delicate lines of gold curved and interwove around the contours of Rose's face, the same lines the Doctor could feel on her own, but in her periphery could see were silver instead. Once their faces were done, the other two - four – made their way to either side of them and grabbed a hand each. They repeated the process in much the same fashion, quiet, diligent, remarkably unobtrusive. If the Doctor couldn't feel their fingers glide across her skin, she could almost forget they were there and that only the two of them, the Doctor and Rose, Rose and the Doctor, existed in in all of space. Even the ones working on Rose did not distract her from her. A woolly mammoth could storm in and not distract from her. She didn't want to blink.

The painters left as quickly as they came, gone before the Doctor cared to notice. Still, neither of them moved. It was hard to describe, the compulsion to keep watching, waiting. She couldn't tell if something external was holding her gaze in place or if it was simply that Rose, Rose, was there. Who knew how much longer she'd be around? In the grand scheme of things, it wouldn't be for much time at all. Soon, this entire event would be a short blip in the Doctors Rose-less life.

"I think we're almost ready," said H'riz. Had they left? Or had they been stood there the entire time? Both the Doctor and Rose broke eye contact to look at them. Whatever spell had been cast had broken at the sound of their voice. She wished it hadn't. She was glad it did. "It's not a long walk to the ritual site, but we should leave now to get there in plenty of time. It would be shame if after all this, we missed the sunrise."

*******

Yaz felt distinctly ignored. It had been hours. The suns were setting and not a single person had paid even the slightest bit of attention her or her friends. She wouldn't have minded so much, but Ryan was bored and so he was agitated. And because he was agitated, Graham was worried. And because Graham was worried, Jack thought it the perfect opportunity to be, well, Jack. 

"All I'm saying," he was saying, "is that a good back rub can really ease stress. And if that doesn't work I could always-"

"I swear to God, finish that sentence and I'll throttle you," snapped Ryan. He was pacing. Yaz wanted to join him but more than anything she wanted him to stop.

"Promise?"

"Honestly, just shut up, Jack," said Yaz, "or I'll be the one doing the throttling."

"I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

"And clearly it's not working. So, _shh_."

It also wouldn't have been so bad if any of them had the faintest clue on what was going on. It wasn't like they hadn't tried to find out, but questions got cryptic answers like " _when the second sun rises, the daughter shall sing_ " and requests to see the Doctor and/or Rose has been resolutely shut down. The fact that they were their friends meant, apparently, diddly squat. 

Rose was another issue entirely. Not as, like, a person. Yaz liked her well enough; when they had been bustling around Black Barrel, Yaz had found herself reminded of the Doctor in the way Rose would eagerly share what she knew of the place and pull them in to experience it to their fullest. Her and Jack had not made the other two feel left out when they reminisced; telling wild, bawdy stories of their time travelling together with the Doctor, of which Yaz was certain at least some was untrue. No, the issue was that in the forty-eight hours Yaz had known her, she had never once been asked if she wanted to help. She did, of course, but travelling with the Doctor had always been a democracy and now, suddenly, it wasn't. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to go home if she made the request. 

They sat on a small hillside, watching the crowd below, many of them holding candles and most of them singing. The songs were pretty, if incomprehensible, made of words that weren't really words and sounds that seemed incompatible with a voice box. After a while, though, it all began to sound repetitive and after a while longer, monotonous. 

"Would it be rude to ask them to tone it down so I could at least have a nap?" Asked Ryan. 

"A kip _would_ do us good," said Graham, thoughtfully, "just a couple of hours, mind. I think it’s pretty safe to say we ain't gonna make any progress until that blasted sunrise, so we might as well find somewhere a bit quieter."

Yaz did not want to go somewhere a bit quieter because wherever that was, it wouldn't be sight of the temple. While she was willing to give the Lyraecians the benefit of the doubt for now, she didn't trust them enough to simply abandon her friends. Still, Graham was right; nothing was happening any time soon, and they'd be no good to anyone if when the time came, none of them could keep their eyes open. 

They got up, and just as they reached the crest of the hill, about to head down the other side to where the forest reached, they heard a call. 

"Hold on!" Shouted a woman who was half climbing, half scrabbling up after them. She held her skirt up to stop from tripping and Yaz found herself thankful that she'd opted to wear a jumpsuit instead when given the choice. "Why are you leaving?"

"We were just headed out for some peace and quiet," said Graham, perfectly amiable, "have a bit of a rest, you know? Before the big gig starts."

The woman stared at him and blinked for a moment, as if he had said something confusing or suspect. "Oh," she said, "I thought maybe you were plotting something. Well, if that's the case, I'd like to be of help if I can."

Jack flashed Yaz a wicked grin but said nothing, making it clear that he could say something incredibly inappropriate if he wanted, but wouldn't because he's a gentleman or some other contrived bullshit. She ignored him, but silently conceded that the girl was beautiful in an, albeit, alien way. "Could we get some food? And water we can drink? And a place to sleep?" She asked.

"You don't ask for much, do you?" The girl laughed, a high, sweet sound that somehow managed to make Yaz feel guilty. "Follow me and I will show you how our blessed earth provides. 

"And my name's Jaylina, in case you were wondering. My friends call me Jay." 

"Well, Jay," said Jack, with as much sincerity as he was capable of in the circumstances, "I hope we'll be great friends."

In the end, Jay was a godsend. She found them fruit that wouldn't poison growing next to a remarkably similar looking fruit that would, (so she claimed). She was an adept hunter and snagged them a pair of colourfully plumed birds that she, mercifully, agreed to pluck and disembowel before building a fire so Ryan could cook them. (“ _It can’t be too different from a barbeque, can it?_ “) She harvested cup-like flowers filled with drinkable water and leaves for flavouring the food. Once they were full and merry, she showed them the most comfortable spot for a quick sleep. 

_Now_ , the one material thing Yaz missed from home would always be her bed. It wasn't the most comfortable in the world, nor the biggest or most stylish, but it was hers. Never in a million years would she have considered throwing it out and replacing it with a pile of dirt. Then again, madder things had happened. Then again, maybe not.

When Jay woke them it was properly dark, the kind which you just had to sit and wait until your eyes adjusted and hope it was enough that you could navigate without injury. Yaz looked up at the sky expecting it to be overcast, but she saw an ocean of stars, far more than she had ever seen on Earth, but there was no moon to illuminate. She wondered if she would ever get used to the seemingly small but significant differences of other planets and hoped she wouldn't. 

"We have three hours until sunrise," said Jay, quietly. Even here, the dark inspired intrepid whispers. "We should move now if we don't want to miss the ceremony."

The four looked at each other with raised eyebrows but said nothing. Obviously, this is what the Lyraecians had been blathering on about every time they had tried to ask after Rose and the Doctor. Well, that should mean they could soon grab them and go home. Or, at least, move on to the next thing. The people here, Yaz had decided, were weird. She didn't fancy spending longer around them than necessary. 

She had assumed that Jay would lead them back to the temple, but after a few minutes, she realised they were walking in completely the wrong direction. A fact that Graham, of all people to even notice, pointed out.

"You want to attend a once in a millennia event without having a bath?" Said Jay, genuinely puzzled, like she couldn't fathom that the idea simply hadn't occurred to them. Yaz was reminded of all the times teachers had proclaimed that there were no bad or stupid questions, and knew, right then, that they were all either wrong or lying. Probably, Jay was already lamenting the hygiene habits of humans and this would be a source of gossip for decades to come. 

The "bath" was actually the purity pool. It had an entirely different atmosphere after dark. The crash of the waterfall was deafening when it was that much harder to see, and the surrounding trees were menacing, scraggly creatures waiting for them to turn their backs before they could attack. The bodies in the water didn't help.

Upon their approach, Yaz could see that the dark figures were actually very much alive and she let out a relieved breath that she hadn't realised she was holding. They were all on their backs, eyes closed, but they moved their arms like the soft flaps of wings, keeping themselves afloat, gentle smiles on their faces. 

"Come along, humans," said Jay, beckoning them to the waters edge. 

"I thought we weren't allowed in," said Yaz, "without permission.”

"Which I'm giving to you," said Jay, "unless anyone else here objects?"

The responses were minimal, a quick raise of a hand, an incline of the head, but the message got through. None of them really cared. Maybe they just didn't want their tranquillity disrupted.

She smiled as if to say " _I told you so_ ” and gestured at them to follow as she stepped in. At their hesitation she said, "if you don't bath, you may not be allowed to attend the ceremony. It will serve as a sign that we have welcomed you into our fold while you stay with us."

Yaz wasn't entirely convinced, but she watched as Ryan got in, then Jack. They waded a few feet until the water reached their waists. It was nothing like watching Rose. She looked over to the stepping stone where she had stood, and couldn't even picture the scenes in her head, anymore; all traces of the black blood that had obfuscated the surface were gone and it was hardly likely that the heap of weapons were still waiting at the bedrock. Almost like it never happened. 

"Come on," said Ryan. Yaz could hear from his tone he knew what she was thinking of. "It actually feels real nice."

Graham nudged her with his elbow and smiled, "it'll be alright." He held out a hand for her to take, which she did, and they walked into the pool together. Yaz found herself wondering if she'd ever tell these boys quite how much she loved them. Probably not; she was, after all, a Yorkshire lass at heart.

The water was cool but not enough to make her flinch. Jay grinned at each of them in turn and Yaz couldn't help but smile back. The feeling of some strange power seeping into her veins and washing them clean was present, the water at work. Ryan was right; it _was_ nice. The she knew she'd been silly, but memories from the previous day had taken over, and she felt she was completely within her rights to be uneasy. That still didn't excuse her usual fearlessness from escaping her so suddenly.

Then again, no one since her own mother had ever insisted on washing her. Jack went first, enthused at the idea. He let Jay guide him onto his back and position him so he would float easier. There wasn't much touching at all after that; more like she moved the water around him. Every now and then Yaz could see some spark or dirt release from his pores and dissipate among the moving currents. When he rose, he looked… younger. No, that wasn't right. Refreshed was more like it. Like his body had been reset to factory settings and now he was in full working order. 

"I gotta get me one of these," he said, shaking his hair of excess water like a dog, then fixing it up with his fingers. "Hey Jay, how about you and me make this a regular thing? Y’know, one on one."

"You are a very strange man," she replied and Yaz heard Ryan snort. She was inclined to join him but resisted the urge. Graham went next and just like Jack; he came up rejuvenated. Ryan, however, didn't look much different, probably there wasn't much more to give him, or not much holding him down with his infinite energy and optimistic disposition. He seemed to have enjoyed the experience though, so she supposed that that was all that mattered.

When it came to Yaz, it felt like the process went on much longer. It was clear that what Jay was doing with the water was far more than it seemed; Yaz could feel when she pushed but then the waves would shift and curve around her body in a way that can't have been natural. Like the others, Jay didn’t touch her, but then she got to her hair. She cooed like she was in love and ever so gently ran her caressing fingers through the entire length without snagging so much as a single strand. Yaz had never been much into others touching her hair, not her mother and barely her sister; she had often avoided going to have it cut for months, occasionally years at a time. But there was something about the dark and the ever-changing currents around her that stole away her apprehensions.

"Close your eyes," said Jay softly. Yaz did as she was told and felt water wash over her face, the rivulets running over her cheeks and pooling at the corners of her mouth. "Now stand up." And she did that too. Her eyes blinked open and the world was infinitely brighter, sharper. It was still the pitch black of night but now Yaz's sight pierced it like the arrow in Rose's throat. 

"Now, you are ready to see," said Jay with what Yaz thought might be pride.

"And what is it we're supposed to see?" Asked Graham.

"Oh, much I'm sure," she replied, "although I can't say I know the details. What I do know is that the daughter must be severed from one union before she can join another."

"Union?" Said Yaz.

Jay looked confused. "Yes? Her wedded union?"

"But wouldn't you need both parties for that?"

"We _do_ ," said Jay. "I'm sorry, am I missing something?"

"Actually-"

"No," interrupted Jack. When Yaz stared up at him, he gave her a reassuring nod, promising to 'explain later'. Beside them, Ryan looked as lost as Yaz felt. Graham, on the other hand, looked like he had just finished watching a sappy rom-com that he had thoroughly enjoyed. "So, all this crap is so you can get Rose divorced?"

"Of course not," laughed Jay, "we don't believe in such legalities, it’s about the connection, you see." With the word ‘connection’ she knotted her fingers together like the gears on a clock. “We’re much more interested in the binding of mind and body.”

"I do love binding bodies."

" _Jack_."

"Which calls for a more practical solution. Obviously, you can’t just ask them to not love anymore; and even if you could, that doesn’t sever the bond, not entirely. So, we need to break it. How does that part in your weddings go? 'Until death us do part'?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I originally thought this plot point would be, like, one chapter? 🤡


	5. The Daughter

By the time the others had caught up to her, Yaz was already trying to force her way into the temple, screaming to be let past while a small army of Lyraecians begged her to calm down. She felt finger shaped bruises forming on her arms as she battled against the fists holding her back.

"Yaz!" She heard Ryan call from somewhere behind her, "Yaz, give it up, it's no good."

When she craned her neck to look back at him, he and Jack's expressions pleaded with her, a mix of concern and admonishment. Meanwhile, in her periphery, she could see Graham and Jay speaking with one of her captors with hurried voices and sweeping hand gestures. "She's just upset," Jay was saying, she left no room for argument, "give her to us, we'll get her sorted. No harm done, right?"

Yaz was livid. "No harm? _No harm_? They're going to _kill_ her! Guys, you heard what she said, they'll kill her for some nonsense ritual and for what? For what?" 

"Yaz-"

"No, _fuck off_. We need to do something and you're all just-"

" _Yasmin_ ," warned Jack. The way he said her name startled her; it was the same tone her parents had used throughout her childhood when she had been having a tantrum or breaking her sister’s things, "do not make the mistake of thinking you're the only one here who cares."

"Then why aren't you _doing_ something?"

"We will. But whatever it is you're trying right now isn't working, is it?"

"We ain't here to pick a fight, Yaz," said Ryan, "and even if we were, what chance do four people have against all of this."

Her body sagged in defeat as his words sucked the last of the adrenaline from her veins. The moment she stopped struggling, she was released and she stumbled at the sudden lack of support. For the first time she saw the faces of the people holding her in place; only here and there did she see anger, but mostly she just saw pity. They weren't making her an enemy, perhaps she should return the favour. 

"I won't apologize," she said, the back of her eyes burning as she forced herself not to cry. Possibly, she was being petulant for the sake of principal.

Graham put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side, "we wouldn't ask you to." That just made her want to cry more. Jack and Ryan joined in on the hug, making a Yaz fajita: it was an uncomfortable comfort. 

For a moment, she allowed them to make her feel like things were going to be okay. That she didn't just make the earth-shattering realisation that actually, yes, the Doctor can die like the rest of them. No, that was ridiculous, not going to happen. The Doctor, a sacrificial lamb? Don't be absurd. If she was going down, it was going to be in a blaze of glory, not some weird cult blood ritual so her ex-girlfriend-or-whatever-she-was can become a demigod of the realm.

"Jack," said Yaz from inside her man-shelter, "what's the deal with the Doctor and Rose, anyway?" 

As he laughed, his chest rumbled against her face. "That's a, ah, long story," he said, "but also very fun and more than a little sexy. Mostly the part where I kept trying to get one or both of them into bed. Those were the days."

From outside their huddle Jay said, "we should really get moving. The ritual site isn't far, but you'll want to get there early if there’s to be chance of getting close to your friends."

"Walk and talk?" Said Graham. 

"Yeah, just lemme go," said Yaz, wriggling free from her confines. And so, they went and Jack turned storyteller. 

Yaz had never really got romance. She supposed she understood the appeal of having someone, of committing to them, of spending a life with them. But it had always felt like an abstract, something other people did. And yet, the way Jack told the tale of Rose and the Doctor made her wish she did. 

The way Jack spun tales was usually a wild affair, filled with profanity and exclamations, side-tracking here and there on tangents that were even less believable with each he told. But as he recounted memories of when he met them and when they left him, the bits in-between long-awaited reunions that was half guesswork based on scraps of information he'd been able to gather. But what did know, god. She wanted to know what it was like to want someone so much, you'd traverse universes and apocalypses for them. To care so much you'd break your own heart for their potential happiness. 

She was desperately sad for them. 

"I think," said Jack after a short silence, "that they made me who I am: better than I was. And I think they could because they did that for each other, first." 

Love, thought Yaz, was about someone seeing the worst parts of you, taking them in their hands and kissing them better. She hoped one day she could be seen that way. 

There was already a crowd gathered at the fields where the ceremony was supposed to take place. Groups of friends animatedly chatting among the general atmosphere of anticipation, like the half an hour between the start-up and the main act at a gig, raring to go for the best bit. The space was well enough lit that Yaz could actually see the violet colour of Jay's eyes. She could also still see the temple a short distance away, revealing a much larger structure than she had thought from the front.

The crowd was loosely gathered around a smallish circle of tightly packed standing rocks that could be easily climbed over, even for Yaz if dignity wasn't a huge concern. From there, a path was being marked out with the same stardust substance that coated the floor of the arena; wicker arches entwined with flowers and foliage were being erected along its length, making it look like the aisle of an Instagram wedding.

The group tried to gently push their way to the front, quickly realising that no one was going to allow anyone as tall as Jack or Ryan through. Luckily, Yaz was shorter than any Lyraecian and for whatever reason, no one seemed inclined to stop Jay. Yaz suspected she was either much fiercer or much more important than she looked. Maybe even by local standards she was an exceptional beauty, and she was just afforded privileges on that fact alone. Maybe it was the opposite and they felt sorry for her, though Yaz very much doubted it. Graham wasn't far behind, but he certainly wasn't getting any preferential treatment. 

Muscling her way to the front was the easy part, next came the waiting. The sky was still the inky colour of night and Yaz could see the unguarded side entrance to the temple. The Doctor was in there. She should make a run for it; would anyone stop her? If she sauntered over past the people preparing, unnoticed, and once she was close enough dashed inside. Sure, the building was expansive, but it wasn't infinite. She'd find them, eventually. Probably. Maybe. 

Or maybe she would get caught and thrown off a cliff to be eaten by flesh crazed alien sharks. She hated being useless. It would fine. Everything was going to be just fine. It always was, in the end.

She leant forward, bracing herself on one of the standing stones. At least, she tried to. When she placed her hands down, she found them on her hips. She tried again but apparently, they had other ideas; they were crossed over her chest, behind her back, raised up high; that got her a couple of weird side-eyes even though she'd tried her best to make it look like she was stretching.

Determined, she forced her whole body forward with her hands out in front of her. She was allowed a moment's satisfaction as her palms lay against the cool roughness of rock before the unbearable wrongness took over. It wasn't pain, exactly, but it hurt. Every cell in her body was recoiling, convulsing away until the world around her turned to haze and involuntarily she scrambled backward, careening into the woman standing behind her. It took her a long moment to recover enough sensation to register Jay guiding her back forward and shaking her lightly on the shoulder. 

"What did you do that for?" She asked, her eyebrows knitted in concern. "Are you alright?"

"I think so. Yeah, I'm fine." Yaz shook her head as if trying to rid herself of cobwebs and stared down at her hands: they were a blistering kind of red, the colour of warning, on the edge of real, lasting damage. But even before her eyes, she could see them cool to their natural brown. "That was horrible."

"And yet you kept going back for more. Is there something collectively wrong with humans? Do you all enjoy hurting yourselves?"

"Only in certain circles. Mostly, I think we just like to prove that we can't be stopped. By some rocks."

Jay rolled her eyes but huffed out a breath of exasperated laughter. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Try that again, I don't think you'll get off so light."

The sky began to purple with the promise of daybreak and the electric energy was as palpable as the growing hum of voices. Yaz stood on her tiptoes trying to gauge how many were gathered but standing at least half a foot shorter than anyone else, it was almost impossible. All she could see were the distant hilltops; they were swarmed like ants though it was hard to tell if this was because the crowd stretched that far back, or simply just some people were after a higher vantage point.

"It's a crucifixion, a public execution. _This_ , it's just-," Yaz cut off. She turned to Jay who was staring off into the middle distance but still clearly listening. "All these people. They're all itching for the kill."

Jay straightened her back, head tilted up, and when she turned to Yaz, she only looked at her with downturned eyes. "It's not _bloodlust_ ," she said. She did not much resemble the kind woman who had helped them gather food only hours earlier. "It's a _sacrifice_. A sacrifice that might save us from mortal peril. Be thankful you don't understand."

"It's not right."

"Because it's your friends’ life on the line? What of our friends? Our families? Is she worth more than them?"

 _Yes_ , Yaz thought, and immediately regretted it. She just stared forward, fearing that if she opened her mouth, something unspeakable would escape.

"Besides, who's to know how this'll culminate; maybe they'll discover a different course of action."

Yaz knew she was being pacified, that Jay would tell her anything if she thought she could prevent a scene. She clung to the words all the same in some vain hope that if she did, they might come true. 

Another, louder, murmur spread throughout the crowd like a wave, surging and crashing into silence just as quick. Yaz could see movement among the foliage tunnel that had been build. At the mouth, two children held open curtains of vines and stringed flower heads, allowing- oh, _hell_ , what was their name? The one from the pool with the sword and the resting bitch face? - to pass through unhindered. 

Behind them was the Doctor and Rose, linked at the elbows, talking out of the corners of their mouths like they were trying to be conspicuous and failing miserably. Rose said something that earned her a good-natured shove and a loss of all illusion of seriousness. Yaz remembered what Jack had told them and saw it all play out as she watched them laugh and walk into tragedy.

 _Oh_. 

_Oh god, oh god, no_ , she realised, _they don't know_. Neither of them. There was only a few metres between her and them when they reached the centre of the pit, hhand-in-hand. Yaz was screaming. She was screaming and they couldn't hear her. She was screaming until a large hand covered her mouth and clamped down harder when she tried to bite it. 

She cast her eyes to Jay, but Jay just shook her head. She still wore that stony expression, but her voice was soft. "You can't interfere. Blink twice if you promise to be quiet and I'll tell her to let you go."

Yaz stared for a moment, then blinked twice. Rose and the Doctor couldn't hear her and she couldn't reach them. What good was fighting? What good was she? She might as well just cry. So, she did. Jay smiled at her sadly and wiped away a tear with her thumb, only for it to be immediately replaced. She kissed her temple and stroked back her hair. "You should be watching your friends. Perhaps, that's all you can do for them."

The Doctors back was facing her. She was on her knees and Rose, standing in front of her, was stiff, her mouth pressed in a hard line as she tried not to laugh. Yaz wondered what they were saying to each other. She hoped is was good.

Once, before dropping out of college, she'd been friends with the resident goth from her AS-English Lang class who had been the only person to take notes during a feminist documentary on the word 'cunt'. Fey (though Yaz knew her real name was Philippa) had once invited her along a spring equinox festival; it was surprisingly quaint. A lot of trinkets for sale, dancing and white people with matted hair in long skirts. Someone wearing fairy wings had given her a peony and disappeared before she could say thanks. The entire field had smelt of heady incense that had made her dizzy after a while and the dancers twirling with ribbons crossing in and out her vision seem barely corporeal. 

It was that oppressive smell, that constant burning that was overtaking her now. Smoke and dust and dirt mixed in the air and Yaz found she could barely keep her eyes on her friends who were so close. They were so close but she couldn't reach out to them. Call to them. Plead to them. They blurred in her vision. 

She grabbed Jays arm to hold herself steady. In front of them a golden glow was brightening. Rose? It grew and grew until everything was tinted gold. There were voices. And they grew too. And then the gold blending into the once dark sky as it grew brighter, the voices grew even louder. Confused shouts, panicked cries, and as the unmistakable orb of the first sun appeared over the horizon, the crown seemed to tremble. Then the second sun came. All was white light and Jay was pulled from her grasp. She heard her high, lovely voice cry out. But it didn't matter why, because then the world turned black. 

***

  
There was something uncanny about Rose's smile. Her eyes were glassy, her posture straight, and her entire body seem half stone as the winds picked up and couldn't sway her an inch. She did not blink. 

The Doctor had long lost track of the things going on around them. There had been salt and smoke and whispered words that weren't words. At least not words that the TARDIS could or would translate. All the while Rose transformed into something not entirely herself. Her feet sank slightly into the mud under the gravity of her newness. 

When her eyes turned gold once more, the Doctor was already too shocked to react. Everything had seemed so quaint, twee, so hilariously an ineffective spectacle that any possibility that what the Lyraecians were doing could actually work was infinitely absurd. And yet the time vortex reared its ugly head in reaction to whatever H'riz and their assistants did, and Rose was becoming a pillar of something that had always terrified the Doctor in its vast power.

She could not tear her eyes away as the winds around Rose continued to pick up, whipping her hair and dress around like a mini cyclone. H'riz stepped into its eye, seemingly unaffected, and placed a long, wicked looking dagger in Rose's palm. The Doctor couldn't hear what they said to her, but she nodded, her vacant eyes not moving from the Doctors face.

Rose knelt so they were eye level and shuffled towards her, dagger in hand, and the Doctor found she could not move enough to back away or hold out a pleading hand. Like in a dream where you need to run but your legs are heavy and rusted, the joints not working as they should, all the while a nameless, faceless darkness getting ever closer.

"Rose," the Doctor whispered, but to no avail. If Rose still had her wits about her, she could not access them. She would come to with blood-soaked hands and the Doctors body beneath her, maybe she'd still be just about alive and Rose would get to see that she didn't hold it against her. She didn't choose this. If the Doctor had only done more all those years ago, they wouldn't be here at all. And as Rose raised the blade, the Doctor said "I'm sorry," like the words coukd take back every poor choice she'd ever made. 

Rose stilled, and when she finally blinked, tears fell from her eyes. The hand gripping the dagger flexed and faltered. The Doctor could tell Rose was fighting something. Her eyes pressed shut and her mouth set in a hard line. The golden light surrounding her pulsed and stretched as she struggled.

Eventually she reopened her eyes, the tears never-ending, washing away the paint on her face. And with every broken line, Rose took a gasping, deliberate breath. She still held the dagger as she moved even closer to the Doctor. Her free hand gripped her face like it was the only thing tethering her to the ground and the winds died as she kissed her.

The Doctor heard the dagger clatter to the floor and Rose bring up her other hand. The Doctor could move again, and she held her in return, tasting the salt that passed between her lips. 

For a long moment, nothing else existed; and if it did, it didn't matter.

A sudden piercing noise broke them apart. A burst of light, blinding. Rose, screaming. 

Everything was so still. Not even a rustling breeze. The gathered crowd were statues, their faces caught in an array of expressions from heartbroken to confused to outraged. Rose grabbed the front of her T-shirt and pulled the Doctor towards her. For a moment, she thought she was pulling her into another embrace, but she didn't. She wasn't looking at her at all. 

The Doctor turned around and saw, just inches from she had just been sat, a woman in the act of plunging a knife, her violet eyes aflame, her skin covered in burn-like abrasions. She had not yet realised, in the moment of her petrification, that a swords blade was already an inch deep into her neck. H'riz, looking like a warrior monarch of some old English folk tale, brandished it, perhaps in time to save the Doctors life. Perhaps not. They wouldn't know. 

Not far behind them, she saw Yaz, collapsed against the stone threshold. Where her arm fell through the barrier, the skin was covered in the same wounds as her assailant. 

"How did you do this?" Said the Doctor. Time had _stopped_. Not the planet, not the universe, time itself. Rose Marion Tyler, grew up in a council flat in a rough London estate, dropped out of college age seventeen, worked as a shop assistant with no real hope of getting out, only her dreams, a human who had singlehandedly paused existence without even breaking a sweat.

"I told you," said Rose between heaving sobs, "I can't control it. I just saw her come for you and... this happened."

The Doctor got up and went to where Yaz slumped, nudging her arm back so once time returned, no more damage would be done. She went back to Rose who was still crying and pulled head close to her chest, holding her, kissing her hair, caressing her back, until her breathing steadied, until air came back to life, until the sickening thuds of a body and a head hitting the ground. 

When the Doctor felt the pooling blood reach her feet, she decided it was the moment to move. She had to drag a now unconscious Rose a few feet to escape the gore, laying her gently down and rubbing a thumb over her cheek before getting back up.

H'riz was standing over the corpse. They closed their eyes, not to rid them self of the sight of it, but to say a few words; a prayer, perhaps. When they were done, they took note of the Doctor and Rose, seeing they weren't where they had been only seconds before, where they should have been. Then they turned to their people.

"We are not murderers," they said, "we cannot build a future on such cowardly actions. You know that no one will regret this outcome more than I."

Around the crowd, it was clear that they weren't happy. Their hopes had just been scuppered, their future uncertain. If the Doctor had the words that could appease them, she would have spoken gladly. As it was, she was too angry for kindness.

"But you'll enthral a woman to kill? How is that better?"

"She had to be willing and she wasn't. Come on now, Time Lord, you're clever, you know it doesn't work like that."

"You could have told us. Saved you all the disappointment. A woman wouldn't be dead."

"A small chance is better than none. It means we have hope. I did what I had to." They gestured to the corpse still pooling at their feet. They had not escaped the blood, letting it collect around their feet, between their toes and soaking the short train of their robe. Their sword drip, drip, dripped and the Doctor was sure she would dream that sound for weeks. "What will you do, now?"

"Leave."

"Could we help-"

"No. No, think it's best we just go."

"Your friend is injured," they pointed at Yaz, "and your Rose will not wake for a while."

"I will get them back to my ship and I'll manage. Thanks. No thanks. Goodbye, you know, eventually. I'll need to make a couple of trips."

"At least allow us to help you back. With all due respect, one of your unconscious friends is twice the size of you."

"Wait, what? How has that happened?"

"Likely, some of the things we burnt aren't especially compatible with human physicality."

Rituals. Rituals. Rassillion, she hated bloody rituals. They were usually more trouble than they were worth and even the ones that weren't rarely felt it. Still, there was that feeling that had Rose done what they wanted, this one would have worked.

"You were trying to bond her to the planet, right?” said the Doctor, unable to stop a thought from escaping her lips once she'd had it. “But it's not her, as a person, that you needed, it's the Time Vortex's power. Because conceivably with it you could anticipate malignant forces way before they happen and... and then, well, you could navigate into temporary pocket dimension or... a shift across space or... a shift in time? No, that would be too much. A whole planet? Definitely not. But bonding a person to that? Too messy. Feelings, relationships, hormones, all gonna make it difficult but a thing... would that work? Then someone could control it independently from the planet. Perhaps. "

H'riz was looking at her expectantly, or maybe she was just confused by the sudden switch in attitude.

"An idea! Get my coat, bring that and my friends to my ship; I've changed my mind. Fix 'em up! I've got to take a look at something."

The walk back to the TARDIS felt treacherously long. It was mostly uphill, with all the obstacles of a natural landscape plus the baggage of three woozy humans, an unconscious Rose, and Jack, carrying her, was sustaining his anger at the morning’s events far better than the Doctor was. She had never heard him use the word 'fuck' so much in such a short space of time. Considering it was him, she was kind of impressed. 

He disappeared to put Rose into bed and the others all flopped around the console. Graham had his head in his hands, looking like he was sustaining the universes' worst hangover. Ryan sat next to him, half falling asleep, and Yaz was valiantly trying to pretend she was okay while picking at the edge of her bandages.

The Doctor rifled through her coat, finding the vial of black blood from her inside pocket. It was half a miracle it hadn't smashed when it had been tossed. She emptied a couple of drops into a petri dish, and hooked it up to the TARDIS's diagnostic centre, and got to work. It did not take long for her to confirm her suspicions. 

Outside where she'd left H'riz and their small accompanying cohort, she explained. 

"This," she said, holding up the vial, "is Rose Tyler's blood. Straight up, regular human blood, undergone a chemical reaction with your water; made it behave weird. Or rather, it made the stuff inside it behave weird. It's the time vortex you want, yeah? Well I've got some right here." She shook the bottle. "The thing is with Rose, it's bonded to her cells, all of them, I'm guessing, so you take some, in this case, blood out of her, you get some of the good stuff too. Neat, huh?" 

"And we can use this instead of her?" Said H'riz. The Doctor did not like the notion of Rose being used for anything, like she was some living idol for pilgrims to gather around. She kept it to herself. 

"I don't see why not. Providing you kept the rest, mind. This is miniscule."

Luckily, the Lyraecians had kept hold of the viscera even if it was left in some back room for them to work out how they should dispose of it. It was far less than it had looked when it had been pouring out of Rose in gushes but far more than should have been survivable. 

The ritual site was mostly empty. A small group sitting outside the pit looked up as they approached, but soon went back to their conversation and paid them no more mind. That was until the Doctor and H'riz stepped inside.

"Who was she, by the way?" Asked the Doctor as she observed the red that still carpeted half the makeshift floor. 

"Jaylina. My daughter," said H'riz. They said it in the way of someone who wasn't allowing themselves sadness, as if they weren't allowed to grieve.

"You killed her to save me."

"I killed her to save us all. A sacred ceremony scarred with treachery can only bring harm. But she believed in what we were doing and she was well loved. I won't be the only one to miss her."

"I'm sorry. But it was a sacrifice. One that came at great personal cost, at that. Can only help what we're doing here."

"And what exactly _are_ we doing, Doctor?"

"That's up to you, honestly. I still haven't got a clue what's going on with this planet. Compounds like these don't exist in habitable lands and _yet_. And yet, here we are. Alive. Well. A thriving community."

H'riz examined the pit, scoping it as if they had never seen it before. "Jay was dead before sunrise," they said, "perhaps the ritual might still work."

"Perhaps."

"But we'd need a new vessel, someone who can be bound and connected to the power."

"You're right here. And I for one think you'd make an excellent time oracle."

"I'll take that as a compliment. But I can't just take control without consulting the people. What if they don't approve of me?"

"We approve!" Called a member of the group while his friends cheered and whistled. H'riz's ensemble all nodded their agreement when they looked to them.

"I'm sure the rest would follow suit if they were here; a majority, anyway. And more importantly, they'll understand. No more time's a-wasting." 

"You know," said H'riz, wistfully, "I think, perhaps, it might have been you we were waiting for."

"No, no, definitely Rose," said the Doctor, "She's the one with the freaky blood."

"Both of you, then."

"The daughters. Plural. Not that it really matters; prophecies are mostly nonce, anyway. Better get on before the last of the blood dries out. You don't want it to be for nothing."

***

When the Doctor got back to the TARDIS, Yaz, Graham and Ryan were waiting in the console room, apparently quite over their previous ailments. 

"Everything go alright?" Asked Graham.

"Yeah. Well, I think." Said the Doctor. "I'll be honest, I still don't have a clue what's going on or why anything here happens the way it does. The locals seem happy enough, though, so better leave in case they're all very wrong and everything's about to go kaput. Rose awake, yet?"

"No," said Yaz, "Jack's looking after her. He's worried."

The Doctor nodded, working the console to get them moving. She thought about what Rose had said: about wasting the little time she had left looking for a cure that didn't exist, and wondered she was doing the right thing. The last time the Doctor had left her, it had been with the hope that she would go and live a long, fulfilling life. She wasn't sure how she would live with leaving her again, knowing she wouldn't get it. She definitely wouldn't be able to live with her dying on her watch, never seeing her family again. She feared for lack of bearable options. 

The four of them held steady as the ship took flight, arriving at cluster XB-8472 with all eight feet still firmly on the grated floor. For all the effort she made staying upright, the only thing the Doctor wanted to do was sit down. 

As she sat on the step, Jack came into the room, his hair far from its usually meticulous state, like he'd been repeatedly running his hands through it. He looked old in a way she hadn't noticed before, even though she supposed he must be. He had barely aged a couple of years in a hundred and fifty; he would be centuries by now, and she made a point to remember to ask him one day. She wondered if this was how people saw her; someone who'd existed too long, had had her heart broken too many times but was still trying to make the best of it. She realised what she saw in Jack then; the question of if eternity was worth it, if the wondrous things to be seen could blot out dark visions of the past. She'd had that thought too many times. 

"You could have warned me," he said, his tone light, "almost keeled over. What if I'd broken a hip? Who'd care for me?"

"I would," said Graham with a wink. If he'd done it for the express purpose of making Ryan squirm, it was incredibly effective. Graham was not a young man by human standards, and his physical appearance was older than both the Doctor and Jack, but behind his eyes still shone a light reserved for the mortals of the universe. In a sense, humans were forever young. 

Jack hopped down beside the Doctor and nudged their shoulders together. "You okay?" He asked. She smiled at him, too tired for much else. He gave her another nudge, understanding. 

"Actually, Doc," said Graham, coming up behind them, "the kids and I wanted a word."

"Oh?"

"The three of us have had a chat and we think we should head home for a bit."

"We just think," said Yaz, before the Doctor could respond, "that it's gotten a bit crowded. As in you're on a time limit and you don't need us bogging you down. And my anti-tracker got destroyed in that force field thing."

"So, I'll get you another one."

"It's not just that," said Ryan, "like, when I go home, sometimes I just want to hang out with my mates and it's not that I don't like you guys being about, but they're mine and I want to spend quality time with them. And I'm pretty sure they feel the same."

"What Ryan's trying to say," said Yaz, "is that we think you'd benefit with some, you know, alone time. You've only got a short time with her; you should be able to make the most of it. Without us."

"Also, me and Jack saw you two necking so obviously you've got some shit to work through."

Yaz looked scandalized. "You saw-? But she's married? Maybe we _should_ stay. As like, chaperones."

"They're adults, Yaz, they'll make their own mistakes."

"And when you're finished talking about me like I'm not here, I'd like to point out that it's not like that."

Jack scoffed.

The Doctor pulled a face at him. "You're sticking around, I assume?"

"You kidding? This is my fantasy threesome; can't be wasting the slither of a chance that it might finally happen."

"Not helping," said the Doctor.

"It's not like we're not coming back," said Yaz.

"Exactly," said Graham, "gives you something to look forward to."

"Just don't miss us too much," said Ryan.

The Doctor sighed. They were right, and she appreciated what they were doing but she couldn't help but feel like she was being coddled into something, like parents insisting they know best. She'd done that to Rose, she remembered, and that hadn't even been her choice to make. 

"It'll have to be a drop-off. Stick around too long and the Jundoon will be on us like a rash, especially with Yaz completely unguarded."

"Wait, will they come for us?"

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Jack, "they probably don't even know who you are and if they do, it's unlikely they'll care unless you're with us."

"And if they do come asking questions, just tell them that you had nothing to do with anything and you forced us to bring you home."

"Throw us under the proverbial bus, if that's what's required."

"We wouldnt-"

"It's not a request," said the Doctor. 

"And it still wouldn't happen," said Ryan.

The Doctor knew that. She didn't want to; she much preferred that her friends would save themselves, first, but then, she supposed, that wasn't really how family worked, was it? "Alright, let's go."

The TARDIS ended up in Bramall Lane's carpark, which wouldn't have been a problem had it not been match day. She was wedged between two SUVs that were both parked too close to the lines for anyone except a motorbike (or a spaceship) to fit between them. By the sounds of the roaring crowds, Sheffield were winning. 

"Sorry," said the Doctor, "was aiming for something a bit closer to home. Might want to get out of here before the game ends."

"I've got a couple of mates with season tickets," said Ryan, "might be able to cadge a lift."

"Like they'll be sober," said Yaz. 

"We'll see you soon, Doc, Jack. And when she wakes up, give Rose my love."

"Me too."

"And me."

"We've got time for a quick group hug," said Jack. 

And that's what they did. Their strange, little family. And when they all pulled away, the three of them were looking at the Doctor a bit startled.

"What?" She said.

"You never hug us," said Yaz.

Didn't she? The Doctor shrugged and grinned at them as they shook their heads and walked away waving. Jack laughed suddenly.

"What?" Said the Doctor, making her way inside and setting the TARDIS back into action.

"Five minutes she's been back and already you're getting all touchy-feely. Like, I know you're repressing these days but fuck me I didn't know it was that bad."

"Shut up, it's not like that."

She ignored him as he began to sing Olivia Newton John's physical and hoped the turbulence knocked him over and cracked his head open. Then, she was going to wait for Rose to wake up and give her a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a tad of writers block regarding how to start the next part of this fic, so I'm going to take a break and write something else for a bit. Hopefully it won't take too long 💖


	6. Time to Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big shrug ✌

The Doctor had not expected Jack or Rose to be awake by the time she got back to the TARDIS. It was still dark out, or at least as dark as it got under the purple sky. Clearly, she had been substantially longer than she thought; when she entered, the pair were already up and ready, dressed to the nines as if they were about to head out on a night on the town. 

"We're going to have a night on the town," said Jack the moment she walked through the door. The sleeves of his satin jacket were rolled up artfully as he gestured in a _tada_ fashion at Rose, who curtsied with a theatrical wave; the sequins of her black, off the shoulder jumpsuit catching the light and reflecting onto the console behind her.

"We are?" Said the Doctor. Once, so many years before she was half surprised she still remembered, he'd said this to him before; the Doctor had decided instead to make himself busy and learnt what 'regret' truly meant when Jack had stumbled in at stupid o'clock in the morning with an unconscious Rose hanging off his back. They didn't speak for a week. To Rose, she said: "you sure this is what you wanna be doing? You know how he gets and I know how _you_ get."

"Oh, I'm not drinking," she said, "gotta stay fresh."

"Exactly my point. This is just wasting time, surely."

Rose's smile was thin and plastic. She and Jack exchanged a look that lasted a fraction too long to be meaningless. He gave her a pat on the shoulder, "I'm gonna…" he said, pointing away before disappearing into a side room. They watched him leave, the sudden silence heavy and prolonging. The Doctor was shocked by thr realisation that she knew what Rose was going to say. Rose kept tapping a heel while she ran a hand up and down her opposite arm, biting her lip, refusing to meet the Doctor's eye. 

_Don't say it. It's not too late._

"I'm giving up," she said. Her body stilled and slumped slightly, as if the words had been its own energy and with their escape, the anxiety that encompassed them fled too. She finally looked up, her steady gaze left no uncertainty. "No, don't argue with me on this. I've made up my mind."

"Jack said- the other day- he said he had an idea."

Rose gave the Doctor a pitying smile like it was her condemned to the absolution. "Yeah, no, he's backtracked on that one. Says it was more far-fetched than your stupid idea which, let's face it, was pretty fucking stupid in hindsight."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry. It's my mess, my problem. My _life_ , in case you forgot."

"You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me." She didn't say she wouldn't be here if it weren't for her and neither did Rose, though they both knew it was true.

"I wouldn't have done a lot of things if it weren't for you." She sighed. "For what it's worth, though, Doctor... I wouldn't change anything, even knowing how it would end up because, in the end, I've had the best time. So, let's just do something fun for a few hours. Like we used to; the old team."

"Could give Mickey a call, see if he wants to join us again."

Rose laughed, loud, almost carefree. "He's too busy being super dad these days to run around with the likes of us. Which reminds me, I do actually need to phone Martha and let her know."

"Martha? _My_ Martha?"

"You didn't think I was doing this all on my own, did you? She's been my woman on the other side from pretty much the get go. It was her birthday I was at when the Jundoon got me. Of course you could have known this is you ever kept in contact with your friends."

"Rose, her birthday was like two months ago for you."

Rose blinked slowly. "Well, shit," she said, "never even thought to ask how long I'd been in that cell. Okay, shit, okay, lend me a phone and I'll square it. Shit, I need to be getting home. God, they're gonna kill me. Mum's gonna be a fucking nightmare. Shit, shit, shit."

Rose spent about ten minutes reassuring and apologizing and another ten explaining. There was a lot of long pauses while she nodded and said things like "I know but-" and "it's just that-" before being seemingly cut off again. The word 'TARDIS' had led to what seemed like a highly involved rant on the other end which led to much wincing in Rose's part, and plenty of barely stifled giggles on a reappeared Jack's. It wasn't that the Doctor didn't know Martha was capable of being fierce when she put her mind to it, she'd just never imagined her keeping up for so long; certainly not towards someone who wasn't, well, her. 

"She's mad because she loves me," said Rose when she finally put the phone down. "I'm gonna miss her when this is all over." Then she put on her best smile and said, "okay, gang, we off?"

***  
The Doctor found herself underdressed in an underground New York disco circa approx. nineteen seventy-two, until a beautiful woman with the most perfectly spherical afro she had ever seen draped one of her many feather boas around her shoulders and danced her way back through the dense, exuberant crowd. Then she was only _mostly_ underdressed, running the artificial feathers through her fingers, watching everyone else let loose in a haze of beat and sweat and a cocktail of various altering substances. 

There had been versions of herself that would have thrown everything into the night, wouldn't have brushed Jack off as he tried to pull her onto the dance floor. Instead, the part of her that had turned inward and awkward held her off to the side, content to watch her friends laugh and sing together in a crowd they didn't belong to and never would. 

Jack spun Rose around so fast she tripped before she was spared the floor by a drag queen, who spun her back with infinitely more finesse. This somehow led her to be passed between dancers like a pass-the-parcel, each set of arms taking her with delight and letting her go all the same. The scene was like a modern take on the dances in period dramas where the female protagonist would be choreographed from partner to partner until she was finally in the arms of the one person she'd been secretly been wishing to dance with the entire night. 

The Doctor wondered if they realized she wasn't one of them; a twenty first century girl who had traversed and conquered the universe, who had once seen this planet turned to dust. Who had the whole of time living in her, draining her until she'll be no more than a memory. How could they, when Rose exuded the same life and joy every time she smiled that she always had? She could break hearts with that smile. 

Jack, suddenly superfluous, broke away and joined the Doctor in her spot. He was breathing hard and there was a faint sheen of sweat across the brow, but he didn't look tired. Quite the opposite; his eyes were shining.

"Are you really gonna wallflower this one?" He said.

"Probably."

"Well, when she eventually asks you to dance, I'm gonna need you to say 'yes'."

"And why's that?"

"Because you'll never stop regretting it if you don't and I won't live with myself knowing I could have done something about it."

The Doctor wanted to ignore him or tell him he was wrong, but she wasn't much in the mood for lying. "She'll be gone tomorrow," she said, because _tomorrow_ sounding better than _in a few hours_.

"And you're heart will break; doesn't matter what you do today. Neither you or I can change anything, so we might as well make the most of it." It didn't matter that he was right. Not when it took every ounce of brain power to not confront the reality when Rose was halfway across the room, half blurred in motion. When she was close, it was crushing. Just the memory of Rose kissing her, even though it was only once and in a moment of abject madness, sent her teetering in the edge of a downward spiral. She had had to leave the TARDIS, to walk around in the long abandoned streets of a once thriving planet, clear her head enough to face her again, wishing her friends hadn't left so they might remind her that there was an after and that after was going to be okay. 

"When did you get to be so wise, Jack?"

"You're not the only one who got old; I'm just better at hiding it. Come on. We don't have to feel our age in the midst of the most vibrant subcultures of the twentieth century; we can still have fun." He was right about that, too. After all, things couldn't be so bad when Donna Summer was playing. 

Eventually, they lost sight of Rose and neither could say if it was to the crowd or somewhere else. Jack decided he needed a drink which probably meant they were going to have to drag him back to the TARDIS by the time he was through. Maybe she should join him. Well, no, she shouldn't, but as the minutes alone ticked by, it seemed like the preferable option. 

She felt an arm go around her shoulder. "How come you're so socially inept, these days," said Rose, resting her head atop of hers. 

"Just got unlucky, this time. Is it off-putting?" She felt Rose shake her head. 

"Nah. It's kind of cute, actually."

"Don't remember the last time anyone called me _that_."

"Not even Jack?"

"He doesn't count. Where've you been, anyway?"

"Went to pee, nosey; there was a queue. But, now I'm all refreshed and ready to dance again and it'd be nice if you joined me. Promise I won't make you go long." 

The Doctor thought of what Jack had said and decided he needn't bothered. As long as Rose was playfully pulling on her feather boa and smiling at her like she had a secret; she would have followed her anywhere, done anything she asked. The Doctor rolled her eyes like she needed persuading before following like a lost sheep.

It came as no surprise to the Doctor that dancing didn't come naturally, it rarely had even when she'd wanted it to. She peered around, finding she wasn't the only one afflicted with uncoordinated feet and a poor sense of rhythm. The difference was, no one else cared; they just wanted to have some fun. And they were drunk. Or high. Or both. It was hard to tell but hardly relevant.

"Come on, Doctor," said Rose into her ear so she could heard clearly over the music, "don't pretend like you don't know how."

"Knowing and doing are two entirely different things."

Rose nodded, not caring, took her hands and started moving her like a ventriloquists dummy to the beat, loosening up all her unused joints and muscles and long forgotten instincts. Her feet soon remembered how to follow and not long after that she remembered how to enjoy it. She found herself laughing for no reason in particular, pulling Rose into a spin, the coloured disco lights dazzling off of her jumpsuit, then releasing her again with a flourish. 

It was clumsy and unpractised and more than once the Doctor was forced to apologise to Rose or some poor bystander who dared get in the way of her flailing. Illusions of grandeur, there were none but all the same they might have been queens of the ballroom for all it mattered. 

The song changed from a riot of groove to something she didn't recognize; a crooning female vocalist, down beat. Within moments, the atmosphere transformed into something akin to sombre, as much as it could when every other person was wearing orange and enough glitter per square inch of skin to supply the whole of Glastonbury. 

The Doctor considered making a hasty retreat but Rose plonked her arms over her shoulders, trapping her to the dancefloor before she could follow through. There were worst things, so she wrapped her arms around her waist, opting to hold onto herself than put her hands on Rose's body. Rose swayed them side to side and said nothing at the Doctors painstaking efforts to keep their bodies at least five inches apart, though it was clear front the way she kept looking down between them that she definitely noticed. 

  
"I'm not looking forward to missing you, again," said the Doctor. She hoped the music was loud out that Rose would ask her to repeat herself and she could reply it wasn't important. _I'll tell you later_ , she would say and then pretend to forget when later came. 

Rose sighed because the Doctor never caught a break. "I'm here, now," she said.

"I wish I could do more."

"That's not your job."

"Isn't it? If it's not, it should be. I want it to be. You used to let me look after you."

"That was a long time ago."

The Doctor laughed bitterly at the leagues between them. "You have _no_ idea. God, I wish I knew what to do. It was so simple last time."

"What are we talking about, here? The Bad Wolf or, you know, us?"

"Both? Maybe. Were we ever simple?"

"Yes. But we were also stupid."

"Ah, you might have a point. But, really, do you think I could de-Bad Wolf you again? Like even just a little bit so it doesn't take over quite as quick?"

"Doctor, if you want to kiss me again, all you gotta do is ask."

"You're not funny."

"Sure, I'm not."

At some point they had stopped moving. The crowd continued to shift and change around them and even when someone would get close enough to brush against, they might as well not have been there for all the attention they garnered. 

"I want you to be okay," said the Doctor.

"I know," said Rose but a loud, funky beat had kicked in and she could barely hear her again. Her eyes were sad, though so the Doctor gave up and tightened her arms to pull her close and Rose returned the gesture around her shoulders. They swayed like the slow song was still playing, temples pressed against one another.

The Doctor tilted her head and inhaled the scent of her shampoo and hairspray, committing it to memory. If she didn't know better, that would have been the moment she would have kissed her. But she did know better, so she just closed her eyes and pretended like the night wouldn't end. 

Even so, they couldn't dance forever, and Rose led the Doctor by the hand into the quieter refuge of the bar. It was still crowded and when they looked around for Jack, hoping he was trying to buy someone a drink, they were unable to find him. They could only lament that he hadn't gotten too far. 

In side room divided by a beaded curtain, they found a couple of pool tables to waste some time on. The Doctor enjoyed watching Rose play, it suited her and she wasn't half bad at it. In the end, the Doctor pretended to lose on purpose. Unfortunately, Rose knew her too well and she threw a chalking cube at her, leaving a blue smudge on her coat. It was far too warm to still be wearing it and people kept giving her odd looks, but she was afraid if she put it down she'd never see it again. 

"Don't worry," said Rose, "you're good at other things."

"Like what?" Said the Doctor, but Rose just winked before taking her cue from her and replacing it on the rack. 

When Jack finally showed up, it was on a table with a microphone he had somehow procured, demanding the DJ play _Gimme Gimme Gimme_ , apparently forgetting ABBA wouldn't win Eurovision for another two years. Coaxing him down gently didn't work, so instead Rose yanked the microphone out of his hand by the wire, then used it to apologize on his behalf.

"He should be old enough to know better," she said to the confused crowd, "but he doesn't. Promise I'll tell him off when he sobers up a bit."

"I don't think that's happening any time soon," said the Doctor, catching a glimpse of him double downing shots across the room. 

"He deserves the hangover."

Eventually, they caught up to him, half slurring his words to some poor boy who was patiently nodding along like some long-suffering parent. He mouthed 'thank you' when they released him from his prison and then scurried away so quick it was hard to tell where he went. 

"Come on, now," said Rose, wrapping an arm around Jack's shoulder, "nights over, don't you think?"  
He pointed a wobbly finger at her like he was about to protest, but dropped it to his lap and nodded. He downed his whisky and stood, swaying almost comically.

Expecting him to walk unaided all the way back to the TARDIS was fruitless. Every few steps he would stop, put up his hands like he was bracing himself before making some incomprehensible declaration. On more than one occasion he made sure to solemnly tell them both that he loved them but not like that. _That would be weird_ , he would say before mumbling nonsense again.

They dragged him back in the TARDIS by one arm each, where he was adamant that he could get himself to either a bed or a shower, he would decide when he got there, pushing them away with pathetic feebleness. They watched him go with concern, but not nearly enough to actually follow. He was a big boy, he could probably look after himself. Or he'd done this enough times before that they could be fairly certain he wasn't going to do something stupid and die.

"He must've taken something dodge 'cause I swear we weren't gone that long," said Rose. 

"He'll be okay."

"Hmm. Not quite sure what to do, now; should probably call Martha. You know and…" 

"You'll break Jack's poor, little heart if you leave without a proper goodbye."

"Didn't say goodbye, at all last time; he survived." It wasn't an accusation, but the Doctor still felt the old pang of guilt she'd always had when she thought of leaving Rose on that beach, no chance to do things properly. It made her feel worst for stalling. 

"But, still."

Rose sighed. "Maybe you're right."

"I'm always right."

"You still tell yourself that?"

"Got to believe in something," said the Doctor. She had to believe she could save the universe. She had to believe she could save Rose Tyler. "Let me try," she said.

"Try what?" Asked Rose. When the Doctor didn't say anything, she looked at her and at the look on her face she turned to the heavens and shook her head, apparently only just realising that the Doctor had been perfectly serious when she'd offered to try and get the job done herself. "Oh." She said, unimpressed. "Oh, no, I'm not letting you try that."

"Why not? What harm is there?"

Rose laughed, not her usual laugh, one that said she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Doctor, you _died_. Remember that? I watched you die and become someone else; you can't ask me to let you risk that again. Not for this."

"You don't have to ask; I'm offering. Like sure, okay, it sucks, I guess, but what's a new face? For you I'd take a thousand new faces. For you I'd straight up just die."

"That's ridiculous."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah, I know, that's why it's ridiculous."

"Rose," said the Doctor, gently. She went and stood in front of her, placing a hand on each side of her face, imploring her to understand. "Make it about me, if you like. Make it that I want you safe, that you're doing me a favour, sparing my poor, guilty conscience." 

Rose leant forward so their foreheads were touching, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky breath. It wasn't a submission but it felt close to one. 

"Please," whispered the Doctor, a shade away from her mouth, running a thumb over her cheek. She brushed Rose's lips with her own, another plea. "Rose." She kissed her, so soft that it could barely be felt, but when Rose didn't stop her, didn't shy away, she wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her deeper. The Doctor took only a moment to wonder in the experience of kissing Rose Tyler and be the one initiating it before remembering the task at hand. It was less instinctive than kissing, like grasping open air and hoping to catch something. She feel somewhere in the distance, a faint string of light. She tried to grab it but it flitted between her fingers then out of reach. 

"Sorry," she said, "I think I'm getting there, just-"

She tried again without giving Rose the chance to tell her not to. She pushed harder, pulled harder. And then, there, where their lips met she could feel it. That power, undulating just under Rose's skin, pulsing forward then recoiling, refusing to break free. She was pulling at that string with every fibre of her being but it wouldn't loose or stretch or break.

She tried again.

She tried again. Her waning strength tried all it could, grappling for one last surge but she couldn't keep hold and just like that, her grasp slipped and the string was gone, slithering away into a dark abyss, not coming back. They both knew it. But something simmered that couldn't be put out as quick and it was stronger than the disappointment. The Doctor knew she should just step back and walk away. Call it a day and mourn her losses later. But Rose was standing right in front of her, lips parted and shining. Rose Tyler who was supposed to be gone forever, another bullet point on the Doctor's long list of regrets, marked with a post-it note saying "I should have told her, anyway." It was a brief second chance she was never supposed to have and almost certainly shouldn't take.

So she kissed her. She waited for the moment Rose pulled away, pushed her, stormed off, but it didn't come. Both there, hips to hips, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, barely breathing, barely moving. For once, the Doctor couldn't feel the heavy weight of the universe humming in her veins. 

When she broke off to say something, Rose pressed a finger to her lips until the impulse was gone and then they were kissing. Really kissing. Two people, three hearts, four hands and a host of other moving parts. The Doctor let herself be pinned up against the console, her coat be pushed off and discarded on the floor. She would have let Rose do pretty much anything to her there, kill her, fuck her, break her heart, had the TARDIS not made a sharp sound of protest.

"Sorry," said the Doctor while Rose laughed into the crook of her neck. If she were honest, she wasn't entirely sure who she was apologizing to or why she was apologizing at all. Possibility was making it hard to think; Rose kissing her again was making it even harder. Nothing but the heat of her breath against her skin and her hands running up her sides mattered.

Rose pulled back. When had it gotten so cold? "Come on," she said, taking the Doctor's hand and guiding her away. They blurred from one room to another until they were in Rose's bedroom. For years it had been hidden by the TARDIS and as such, remnants of Rose's twenty one year old self still existed here and there; a denim jacket tossed over the back of a chair, a blanket that had once belonged to Jackie, a pile of different mascaras that she used to apply diligently every single day, for some reason lost to time. Why so many? Rose didn't quite fit in the space anymore; she'd long since outgrown it. The mascaras would ruin her expensive-looking inserts, for a start. 

More on instinct than any conscious decision, the Doctor found Rose's side zip, pulling it down only a couple of centimetres before it snagged on the sequins. She swore under her breath when she tried again to no avail.

"Just force it," said Rose, holding the fabric taut and bursting out laughing when the Doctor bent down as if getting a closer look would make any difference.

"I'm not going to just rip your outfit."

"What are you talking about? That's exactly what you should be doing; did you forget how to be sexy? Do we need to stop? Do some googling?"

Rose towered over her, a nefarious eyebrow raised. She bit her lip which would have been sexy if she weren't so clearly trying not to laugh at her own piss-taking.

The Doctor stood straight and without breaking eye contact, pulled her close by the waist before extending her arm around her back, grabbing the fabric on one side of the zip and with her free hand the other, pulling as hard as her strength would allow. The seam parted with a satisfying _rip_. She pulled again lower down, feeling Rose's body rock against her as she did, until the tear reached her thigh.

With parted lips, Rose slipped fabric barely still holding the garment up off her shoulders and let gravity do the rest. It fell into a heavy, sparkling heap at her feet that she stepped out of, pushing the Doctor back slightly with her as she did, then she kicked it back with a stiletto heal, sequins scratching against the floor. 

"Not bad," she said, biting her lip again, except this time it really was sexy. 

They crashed into each other like a wave in a storm, manoeuvring until Rose was sat on the end of the bed with the Doctor straddling her. Together, they fell back against the duvet, their mouths not once breaking contact. The Doctor ran a hand over the lace of Rose's strapless bustier, further down over her ever heating skin, until she reached the matching lace of her underwear, pulling it tight then letting it snap back, revelling in the way Rose arched against her as it did.

 _Rassillion_ , why had she never done this before? He could have had her so many times; losing her wouldn't have hurt more in the end, it couldn't have. He'd been in far too deep for touching her the way he'd wanted to have made any difference. But she was here now and she slipped off the bed and onto her knees between Rose's thighs, feeling inexplicably like she belonged there. 

Without ceremony, she grabbed Rose's underwear by the hips, pulling them down barely enough so she could latch onto her clit, running her tongue over it, eliciting a satisfying gasp. Successful, the Doctor detached and pulled back to continue getting rid of the flimsy lace preventing her from getting full, unbridled access. She kissed the inside of her thigh instead.

"Hold on," she said after a moment, "sorry, my boots are digging, I just need-" 

She sat back and began undoing the laces as Rose sat up with the audacity to not look surprised. Her curls were dishevelled and falling across her face, and her cheeks were flushed pink, her smile amused. As the Doctor yanked off one boot - and sock for good measure - and got to work on the other, Rose tossed one of her ankles over the Doctors shoulder and the Doctor found her fingers refusing to cooperate, the task of untying a simple bow almost impossible. Almost. 

Boots discarded, she wasted no time getting back down to business. She abandoned any notion that she was going to take her time. She just wanted to get her off. She wanted to know what she sounded like when she did. 

Rose didn't complain about the lack of preamble. She fisted a chunk of the Doctors hair, alternating between running her fingers through it and pulling, depending on what the Doctor was doing with her tongue while she tried to work out what made her gasp and what made her moan and what made her unable to muster any sound at all, just tighten her fingers so hard the Doctor could feel bruises forming at her scalp.

It didn't take long to find a rhythm that worked. She knew with every shaky breath, every tremble of her thighs, every thrust of her hips that begged for just a little more. The Doctor with one hand stroked the leg that rested on her shoulder and with the other took her four fingers and put them inside of her as deep as her thumb would allow. 

She chanced a look up, not quite prepared for what she might see. Rose was leaning on her free hand, her back arched and her head tossed to one side. For the first time, the Doctor noticed how her lipstick was smudged and she wanted to kiss it clean. 

"Rose," she said, a sudden, overwhelming need to say something striking, but her scrambled thoughts unable to produce anything coherent. 

"Don't you dare," said Rose, opening her eyes and panting, "whatever it is can fucking wait just don't-"

  
The Doctor got back to work.

"-stop. _God_."

The Doctor worked her lips, her tongue, her fingers a little faster, a little harder, and with it Rose got more and more vocal. Every strangled moan, every elicit cry a singular prayer spurring the Doctor on, the finish line so close she could taste it.

Rose tipped over the edge, sounding almost shocked by it. She collapsed into her back as the rest of her scrambled to keep the sensation going just a little longer; twitching and jerking and clenching until finally she stilled and the Doctor stopped her ministrations, placing lazy kisses to her hip and stomach.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling her, kissing her across her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck. Finally she got to her mouth, parted her lips with her tongue and begged her to taste herself. She did. The Doctor couldn't remember the last time she'd been so desperate to be touched. 

Rose scooted herself up towards the head of the bed, taking the opportunity of separation to rid herself of her own shoes, tossing them one by one across the room, before leaning forward to grab hold of one of the Doctors braces to pull her back to her. Once there, she pushed both off and tugged the hem of her t-shirt out of her trousers and pulled it over her head. 

It was stupid to feel exposed in that moment, but the Doctor did anyway. Surely enough of how she felt for Rose was written across her face at all times; to reveal it anywhere else bordered on obscene. 

She wasn't given the chance to dwell as Rose pulled her in for another kiss, and brought her down as she lay back among the pillows. The Doctor lost track of who's hands were who's until Rose was using hers to unfasten the Doctors trousers, then pushing them down along with her underwear, using her feet when she could no longer reach. 

"Come here," Rose said when the articles were thrown to the floor and the Doctor wasted no time in diving in to kiss her again. Rose smiled against her lips and said "no. I meant _come here_ ," and she tugged at the back of the Doctors thighs until she got message. 

She did as she was told. There was a brief flash _I've never done this before_ that ran through her head before Rose's mouth was on her and suddenly thinking was secondary, just above breathing.

Between her inexperience and her desperation, she didn't last long and her whole body was falling apart as if the stardust that made her could no longer hold her together. She put a hand out against the cool wall behind the bed to hold herself steady. 

Through the hazy bliss, she hadn't noticed that Rose wasn't stopping, that she had an ironclad grip around her thighs, preventing her from moving and before long she was once again on the precipice of absolution.   
It came and Rose, her hold solid, still didn't stop and it came again and she didn't stop. 

Through the muddle that was her consciousness, the Doctor managed to choke out the words "please" and "I can't" and Rose, understanding she needed to tap out, released her, the skin where her arms had held her down were red.

It took her a few long moments to regain enough feeling in her legs to flip herself off of Rose's torso and slide down so their shoulders rested against each other. All but panting, she turned a look at her. Rose was watching already, but the moment their eyes met she burst out laughing.

"Are you okay?" She asked, apparently delighted at the Doctors state. 

"Shut up," she responded, leaning back again, closing her eyes and trying to control her breathing into something less embarrassing. She stopped breathing altogether, however, when Rose kissed her shoulder then lay her head on her chest and tucked an arm over her waist. Like it were normal. Like it was just something they did. Maybe it was. The Doctor couldn't decide whether for not it was a pleasant thought. 

She pushed it away altogether. She put her arms to use and held Rose in return, sighing into the gesture and allowing herself the respite to enjoy it. _What ifs_ weren't allowed. _What ifs_ were for when she was alone and scrambling for some kind of catharsis after a particularly bad day. 

"Will you tell him?" Asked the Doctor, eventually. Her voice was hoarse, even in her own ears.

"Of course," said Rose, not needing an elaboration. Perhaps she had been thinking about the same thing. One tended to dwell after extramarital sex. "I tell him everything. Why? Don't you want me to?"

"What you say in your marriage isn't really any if my business. But do you think he'll mind?"

"You know the answer to that." The Doctor was about to argue but stopped when she realises it was true. He wouldn't mind because she wouldn't mind. It was incredible that she could even momentarily forget that until a point after which he left with everything, they were one and the same. 

"Do _you_ mind?" She asked instead.

Rose was quiet for a long time. She kept running a finger across the Doctors collarbone, a light touch that occasionally tickled. "I don't know," she said, eventually, "it's weird. Like, really I should feel bad, I don't. Because it feels the same. With you. Because it _is_ you. And me. And us here is just us there but with a different history."

"History makes us who we are."

"Hmm, not the foundations, if they're solid. I think we're solid."

"Alright. So, lets say, for arguements sake, you never had kids because kids come first, naturally, I wouldn't expect anything less. And, for argument's sake say we're still here and I asked you to stay; would you?"

"No."

"Not even a smidgen of hesitation, huh?"

The Doctor felt Rose's smile against her skin. "This may shock you, but I'm still not gonna throw away a happy relationship that I've been in for over a decade because we shagged once."

"You wouldn't even think about it? Even a little? If it's fundamentally the same?"

"That's not what I meant."

"No?"

"I just meant-" She cut off. She wasn't smiling anymore and her hand was still. She made a sound that's sounded like _fuck it._ "I meant I love you. And whatever else, time, space, life, that parts never gonna change."

"Oh."

" _Oh_."

She had told him that once, so many years ago. There had been a lot more crying that time, from the both of them. He'd never got to say it back and she wondered if it would have made it easier if he had. She wondered if she said it now if it would make it easier. 

They were quiet so long that the Doctor thought that Rose had fallen asleep, but when she looked down, her eyes were open, staring off into the middle distance, entirely lost in thought. She wouldn't say it; it felt entirely too much like asking her to stay and she knew the answer to that. So instead she caught her attention and pressed another soft kiss to her lips, parting them with her own when she let her. 

She slipped a hand between Rose's thighs and didn't let her do the same; she just wanted to watch her without distraction so she might remember what she looked like. In the end, it was all she would have. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically spent the best part of the last two chapters caught between "that'll do" and "maybe I should scrap this whole section and start over" but, well, it's done now so whatever. Problem was, I was feeling the same about the next bit I'd planned so THIS time I actually did scrap and decided to do something I found fun to write. Idk if it was fun to read but I only care about me


	7. Fallen Star

It was not a kind planet. The lands were hostile and the things that lived in them fit right in. The sea was so acidic it would burn the flesh down to the bone and then through that, too. But the sky was orange and pink and if you closed your eyes, you imagine the crashing waves anywhere you wished. The sand was so soft you could sleep in it if you didn't mind digging the remnants out of your ears for a week. 

The Doctor and Rose had only wondered half a mile before finding a spot to sit and watch the horizon on. Their hands clasped and heads leaning on one another, they listened to the tides come and go and the strange bird calls from above that could never be described as beautiful but still wasn’t the heinous squawking of a seagull. 

"Why are we here," said Rose, in a kind of sleepy, dreamy tone. When it had become clear that neither of them were going to sleep, the Doctor had decided it was no good for them to wait around in the TARDIS. So, they'd detangled and showered and dressed and ate and she'd taken them somewhere where getting eaten was a very real possibility if you got lost but also sported famed coastline for the adventurously hearted. It was a place she had once meant to show her, search with her for a bit of danger, but never got the chance. 

"Waiting," said the Doctor, quietly in return. "Saying goodbye, I think."

"We did that already."

"I know, and I'll do it again when the time comes."

They did not move. The sky changed from pink and orange to orange and yellow. A small, thin cloud passed overhead; it wasn't the sort that would rain and leave them mottled with pain but the Doctor frowned at it all the same. A gentle breeze blew some of Rose's hair into her face and she pushed it behind her ear and lay back against her, resisting the urge to shiver lest Rose suggest they head back. They would have to, eventually, but not quite yet. It didn't have to be over yet. 

"I've been looking for you two for ages," called Jack in the near distance, all but breaking the spell. He was struggling against the sand, not helping himself by keeping his hands in his coat pockets. It was not nearly cool enough for him to be wearing it, but perhaps he was feeling delicate. When he reached them, he collapsed on the other side of Rose and pulled her into a quick side hug and pressing a kiss to her temple.

"You okay?" He asked her. 

"I think you should be more worried about yourself," she said with a raised eyebrow. 

He pointed a finger at his chest and raised his other hand in defence. "Hey, I just thought I'd give you two an excuse to be alone for a while. Had I'd known how loud you were gonna be about it, I would have gotten myself some earplugs. Or, you know, actually paralytic. Seriously, y'all know that doors are designed to close, right?" 

The Doctor blinked rapidly at him, not entirely processing what he was saying. When Rose turned to face her, she was wearing the same half-mortified expression that she could feel gracing her own features.   
"I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about."

"What I'm worried about," said Rose, "is that you were listening."

"I wasn't listening; I just heard. And I'm sorry but that's entirely on you."

While Rose groaned and sank with her head in her hands, the Doctor drew spirals in the sand, willing them to open a portal she could disappear into. 

Light exploded from above. She felt Rose flinch beside her. The Doctor looked up and watched as something bright trailed across the sky, falling rapidly and disappearing behind them, beyond the line of the jungle. The ground shuddered as it hit the earth and a couple of moments later the resounding, deafening crash finally reached them. 

"What the hell was that?" Said Rose.

"Probably nothing," said the Doctor, although she wasn't convinced it was, "a meteor most likely, or a chunk of space debris."

"We should check it out."

"It could be miles away."

"Oh, I don't know," said Jack, thoughtfully, "that was a pretty steep trajectory and goddamn loud. We could walk it, I reckon."

The Doctor gave him an admonishing look because that was beside the point, but he just shrugged at her like he didn't know. "It's an unnecessary danger," she said. 

Rose rolled her eyes. "Life's an unnecessary danger," she said, "come on, now, don't pretend to be a killjoy, I know you want to look, too. And like you said, it's probably nothing. We go, we come back. Homeward bound."

She sounded so reasonable that the Doctor felt that arguing would be considered unreasonable. It was fruitless, in any case; Rose was not the kind of person you could fight with and win. 

Against her better judgement, they left the relative safety of the beach and headed straight into the adjacent jungle; a forest so riotous in colourful warnings, that just looking at it made the Doctor reflexively want to retreat. She led her friends deeper, telling them _don't touch this_ and _don't step on tha_ t every few moments. She pointed at a glowing fungus and proclaimed it one of the most poisonous in the universe and even touching it could kill any one of them, to which Jack, who had already had enough, plucked and ate it. Ten minutes and whole load of vomiting later, they kept moving.

"Worth it," said Jack, although the slight green to his parlour suggested otherwise. 

Breaks in the canopy of giant mushrooms and even bigger trees allowed them to spot the billowing smoke of the crash site and determine that they were still headed in the right direction, correcting themselves each time they slightly veered off course. It wasn't far, but the slow, careful pace meant the journey took much longer than Google Maps would have predicted.

Impact had eviscerated everything in the immediate vicinity to it, leaving behind a large circular clearing of nothing but dirt. The Doctor strained to see what lay at the centre of the crater - it was hard to tell - she wasn't sure she was able to see anything even though the smoke had almost entirely cleared. 

Rose stepped down the short, steep hill, jogging until she could steady her pace to a walk and headed to the epicentre. Jack and the Doctor followed suit, hurrying to catch up. When they reached her, Rose was standing on the edge of a hole, about the same diameter as a football but at least twice as deep. It was empty.

"Could have been, I don't know, ice," said the Doctor, "or something else that might melt of evaporate. Disintegrate." She hadn't been expecting much, and had hoped for not a lot, but nothing was still disappointing. At the very least, it would have been nice to see a cool rock. She liked a cool rock. 

"I think you're half-right. Look," said Rose, bending down and pointing into the pit.

The Doctor shuffled up behind her and peered over her shoulder, trying to see what she saw. When she moved her head, light caught on something small, winking at her. "Oh, yeah," she said. There, at the bottom of the pit, barely visible in the darkness, was a perfectly symmetrical, chrome sphere. It was immaculately clean. 

Jack reached in.

The Doctor grabbed his arm and yanked him back. "What are you doing?" she said.

"Picking it up?"

"You don't even know what it is."

"Immortality, baby," he said, flashing his most charming grin, "nothing irreversibly bad can happen."

"To you, maybe. If it blows, the rest of us are going with it." She waited for Rose to pipe up in her favour, but when she didn't and despite her reservations, she let him go. 

The sphere was roughly the size of her diet and when Jack picked it up, nothing happened. He tossed up and caught it again, hand dipping under the weight of it. He rolled it between his hands, examining each side for a clue to what it was. Then it began to glow. One moment it was chrome and the next it was magma red. It looked like it would burn straight trough his flesh but Jack didn't flinch. They all stared as it shifted, melting or dissolving, into nothing, leaving behind a small pile of stones.

"I was expecting an alien," said Rose, "a teeny, tiny alien. Could've kept it as a pet."

"Oh, you could get yourself a hell of a lot more than a pet alien with these beauties," said Jack, grinning from ear to ear, "two would get you your own planet. A habitable one, at that."

"For some rocks?"

"Psynium," said the Doctor, realising after Jack what it was. "Incredibly rare and therefore incredibly expensive. Only the wealthiest beings in the universe usually ever even get to see a grain of the stuff."

"What's it do?"

The Doctor blinked at her. "'Do'? Well, nothing. It's just pretty, gets made into jewellery and things."

"Really?"

"Rich people are stupid," said Jack as supplement. 

"Then, I think we should leave it," said Rose and Jack looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "A capsule containing unfathomable riches falls from the sky of an inhospitable planet? Do you honestly think no one's coming for it? And when they do, how far d'you reckon they'll go to get it back? Dying's not the worst thing that can happen."

"You're a clever lady," said a voice. 

The three spun varying degrees to follow it and found a cluster of five human shaped figures in yellow hazmats, carrying overcompensating-ly large guns, all trained on them. 

"Am I the only suffering with a tad of deja vu?" Said Jack. 

"Nope," said Rose and the Doctor together.

"Give us our stuff," said a man at the front, taller than the rest, "and we won't shoot you."

"How do we know this is yours?" Said Jack. 

"Shut _up_ ," hissed the Doctor, "its not worth it; just hand them over and we can leave."

"Two clever ladies. Come on, friend, we haven't got all day."

Jack grimaced, looking down at the wares then back at the assaulters with venom. He was clearly grappling with pros and cons of getting himself shot on principle. After a moment he met the Doctors gaze, then Rose and sighed. He handed them over, none too carefully pouring them into the tall man's. "I don't like thugs," he said, as he stepped back. 

"I don't think so," said a woman, emerging from the back of the group, pointing her gun straight at Jack's head, "you should come with us."

"Hold on," said Rose, outraged, "you got your shit, you don't need him, too."

The woman laughed a high, cold laugh, distorted by the speaker on her suit, but it was the tall man who answered. "We're meant to trust that you'll just walk away and keep your mouth shut? Nah. We hear a whiff and we kill him. You try to stop us, we kill him. Do neither of those things, we might just let him go, eventually. Or, you know, you two could join as well."

"Party time," said Jack. 

"This way's easier, I'm sure you'll all agree." 

"As in, we don't shoot you all dead, right now" said the woman. 

"How can we know that you won't go back on your word?" Asked the Doctor.

"You don't," said the man. "But the way I see it, you don't really have much of a choice. If I'm being honest, though, I'm not thrilled by the prospect of more blood on my hands. Not good for the soul, you know?" 

"Don't worry, you guys," said Jack, sauntering forward with both hands raised, "what're they gonna do? Kill me?"

"Possibly."

"I'll be fine. Rose, if this is the last time, don't worry about me. Just have a good one."

Rose grabbed hold of the Doctors hand as they resigned to watching Jack being escorted away. The group were gone as quick and as quiet as they came, or they would have been had Jack not started loudly proclaiming that he did, in fact, find hazmats a turn on. For his sake, she hoped they weren't easily offended. 

"You okay?" Said the Doctor, not sure what else to say.

"Am _I_ okay?" Said Rose, sounding appalled. "What about Jack? We've just let him be marched off at gunpoint!"

"He'll be fine."

"He won't die but that's really not the issue here. We've got to free him in case they've got, like, nefarious plans."

"They're smugglers, Rose; not a brand exactly known for their ingenuity. They probably mean what they say; deals are their business and breaking them is bad for the reputation."

"I don't want to take that chance."

The Doctor ran her hands through her hair. "Look, my priority right not is getting you home safe. I'll come back for Jack, I swear but-"

"I'm not leaving like this."

"Rose-"

"No, don't argue, you can't make me."

"I know,” resigned the Doctor, “You're the most stubborn person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

Rose stared at her, hard, then, after a moment, said "but it _has_ been a pleasure."

The Doctor huffed out a breath of laughter. "Let's head back the TARDIS, I should be able to track them from there. Shouldn't have come out here without protection anyway."

"Yeah, no shit."

***

"I look like a beekeeper," said Rose, her expression obscured but somehow still clearly put out. She had decided that she wasn't angry regarded the Jack situation, a sentiment evidently false by the fact that she was complaining about her outfit.

"Beekeepers everywhere would be delighted to hear it," said the Doctor. "At least yours fits," she added because she was no better. In her defence, the fabric that should have been at her crotch was hanging half way down her thighs and much of the were legs pooled around her ankles, the hefty suit boots the only things holding it up so she wouldn't trip. She felt like a child playing dress-up, except instead of her mother's heals, it was her six-foot-something old selves spacesuit that she hadn't bothered updating yet because she had a spare that would probably do the job unless, off course, she leant it to someone else without considering the personal consequences. 

"So, what's the plan?" Rose asked. 

"We find the ship, we get Jack, we leave again."

"I love it when you're thorough."

The Doctor rolled her eyes. "You plan too carefully, you'll forget how to adapt. Right, you ready?"

Rose gave her a sarcastic double thumbs up. "Always," she said.

On a planet where the native inhabitants had not yet evolved to use technology and potential outside settlers had no want of it, tracking down a spaceship was almost comically easy, even one shrouded in half a dozen different cloaking devices. It was less than two miles from the crash site and the Doctor parked the TARDIS about half way between the two so they wouldn't be heard arriving. The Doctor loved her ship, would not trade it for the world and all its' treasures, but she wasn't exactly stealth; she could always be heard coming. 

The step out of the TARDIS was much higher than expected and on an angle so the Doctor found herself almost falling flat on her face. She turned to find the ship tilted up on an enormous exposed root, there being no flat surface large enough to accommodate her.

Rose, having watched the Doctor make a fool of herself, hopped off the edge, landing almost daintily before curtsying and shutting the door behind her. 

"Will it be alright?" She asked. 

"She'll be fine."

"No, I meant the... tree, is it?"

"Oh. Maybe. Honestly, that's not really important at this very second. Don't want to risk our new acquaintances flying off before we get to them."

Rose frowned, first at the Doctor, then at the root the TARDIS was presently crushing. She couldn't say she blamed her, the first cracks were already starting to appear and where the bark splintered, it glowed a sickly green. If it were any other kind of ship, she might have been more concerned. But her point still stood; they didn't have the luxury of waiting around to see what would happen when it finally snapped. 

She bid her ship a fond farewell, promising that they would be back soon and requesting that she not make too much trouble while they were gone.

It only took a few moments of journeying before the sounds of life became apparent. It occurred to the Doctor that the sound of the crash had probably scared off anything in immediate range, effectively clearing their path when they went to investigate. But it had been long enough, the danger had passed and the inhabitants were returning home. She voiced this concern to Rose.

"Let's just hope they have no interest in us," she replied.

Her words were a curse. As soon as they were out of her mouth something darted out of the cover of foliage. It reminded the Doctor of a poisonous frog, pink and green and yellow, mucus-coated skin and bulbous appendages. It stood on two legs, however, half a head taller than them and growing as it stood straight, rearing and hissing acid in their direction.

A bright white blast hit the creature straight in the chest, sending it slamming four foot backward into the unyielding trunk of a tree. It slumped, still spitting bile, to the floor where it squirmed and screamed, high and wailing, wanting to attack again but being held back by its melting flesh. Rose marched up to it and shot it again, this time in the head, and it stilled, dead, it's insides pouring out of it in pulses.

The Doctor saw her shoulders relax as she let the gun fall at her side. She looked down at the thing she had just killed, watching it for a couple of moments like she was paying a tribute. When she turned, she smiled a thin smile.

"Where did you get that?" The Doctor asked because she had not realised that she was armed.

"Found it."

"I don't keep guns in the TARDIS."

"You might not, but Jack does."

 _Oh_? "Since when? Where?"

"All over. They're pretty easy to find; I'm surprised you hadn't noticed. This bad boy was in the dishwasher."

The Doctor wondered if Graham, Ryan and Yaz knew about this and if so why hadn't they said anything. She made a point to remember to be mad once they got Jack back, even if his blatant disregard for the Doctors feelings on the subject had more or less just save their lives. "Come on," she said, "it might have a pack nearby. Not that I'd like their chances."

By the time they reached their destination, it felt like they had been roaming for hours. The jungle had gotten inexplicably thicker and more treacherous, requiring them to climb as often as they walked. Monsters and cryptids snuck through the shadows and more than once Rose fired warning shots in the direction of the rustles to scurry them away. Eventually the foliage thinned again and they found themselves at the edge of a relatively small clearing that was almost entirely engulfed by a space craft. 

It was sleek as a bullet and it's glossy black finish looked expensive. When it was said crime doesn't pay, they didn't mean fiscally. It hovered a couple of feet off the ground, although it wasn't visibly suspended. It had no visible door, but there was an opening in it's side all the same, and from it a digital blue energy ramp allowing access. At least it was going to be easy to get in.

"Wait here," said the Doctor. 

"Oh, no, absolutely not," said Rose, grabbing the Doctors arm when she went to move. "I am not sitting around while-"

"I'm just going to check the coast is clear," interrupted the Doctor, "so please, just this once, do as I ask and wait. I'll, I don't know, whistle or something to let you know that you can join me."

"That's a waste of time."

" _This_ is a waste of time.," said the Doctor, pointing back and forth between them, "I will call for you in a minute."

And before she could argue further, the Doctor dashed out of their hiding place and across to the ship. The ramp sounded like static crackling with each of her steps. When she got to the top, she peered inside to find a small square room, a crawl space, really, with three doors, one in each direction with large, red lights shining above them. 

She shuffled in and up to the one on the left to make sure it wouldn't automatically open before she was ready. Nothing happened and she let out a breath, momentarily fogging up her visor. She turned back, whistled out into the open and when she saw Rose pop her head out, she beckoned her over. 

And almost like Rose's emergence triggered something, as soon as the Doctor saw all of her, the energy ramp disappeared with a _zap_. She caught the shocked expression on Rose's face as she halted before the ships side panel solidified solid black, ensuring she would never get out. That even if she had had time to think about it, the Doctor couldn't make a jump. Because Jack had a better chance kidnapped on a strange ship - the most likely outcome being he flirted his way out at the earliest opportunity - than Rose would on a strange planet with nothing but the TARDIS and Jack's apparent weapon arsenal. What could she do? Look again into the Time Vortex and let it kill her outright, this time? No, the Doctor would have jumped, but it was too late. The ship had already flown. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🌠


	8. Stranded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know that thing that goes"write drunk, edit sober"? yeah, that's some bad fucking advice i wanted to tear my own hair out

Rose stood in the circle of ashes left behind from the ships' thrusters as it took off, still warm, small wisps of smoke puffing at the edges; it was the only evidence that the thing had been there at all. Some irrational part of her thought it might hold an answer or two, like the shapes in the dust could clue her on what to do next in the way of leaves in a teacup. The rational part of her, the part that was beginning to recover from the shock of being suddenly stranded was blank; her mind unable to fill the absence of the ship that had disappeared so quick that she had not been able to register it was happening until after it had gone. She had stumbled to the only thing it left behind, her ears ringing so loud she had wondered if she would ever hear anything properly ever again. 

When the ringing eventually stopped and the sounds of life filled the air once more, reality began settling in and it looked something like this: Rose Marion Tyler was alive and she was alone. In all likeliness, soon she would still be alone but she would also be dead. She was also stupid and selfish and foolhardy, but she'd always know this. It wasn't like she hadn't realised her quest was hopeless, it had been too long since she had given up that she might actually succeed. So why carry on? Because, when it came to it, Rose always figured that things would eventually go her way, she just had to fight the universe and win. That wasn't so hard, she'd done it before, why should this time be any different? Things didn't stay bad forever, that wasn't how the world worked. Not for Rose. 

This was the punishment for her hubris: to end up dying on some shit hole planet or - if she found her way back - attempting a great escape in the TARDIS, providing she didn't get eaten first. She should have just gone home to her family when she had decided enough was enough. No doubt Martha had already gotten a message through and her Doctor was both annoyed and unsurprised that she hadn't shown up yet. He wouldn't have told the kids because he was never one to make promises to them that he wasn't sure he could keep and it had already been two months, what was another couple of days? God, two months without a word. They would have thought she was dead; disappearing so suddenly. 

No one had seen as the Jundoon steeled her away. She had only gone outside for some fresh air, the overwhelming heat of too many people in a room, most of which she didn't know and many of whom she hadn't seen in years and all wanted some explanation of what the fuck she'd been doing with her life when, officially, she had died in the grand old year of '06 (or was it ’07?); she hadn't even taken her bag, left it hanging on the back of a chair, overseen by one of Micky's childhood friends that she'd once regrettably kissed when she was fifteen. 

She had wanted to call home, a moment of respite in the voices of those she loved most, but her phone was in the bag and she wasn't going back inside to get it. She could talk to them later. She was returning in the morning, anyway. 

It shouldn't have been a surprise when she was arrested but, somehow, it was. Rose had gotten away flouting the no jumping between universes rule for so long, she had forgotten to be careful, to keep her head low. She was not jumping on the Eurostar and taking a day trip to Paris, she was threatening the very fabric of existence, a small risk, because she was good at what she did, but one not to be taken lightly. No matter how careful they were about the jumps, the potential for catastrophe maintained. It had only been a matter of time before someone tried to stop her. She was surprised UNIT hadn't intervened but then again, no one was about to front up to Martha about it. 

Given the opportunity, Martha was owed an apology on behalf of Rose disappearing at her birthday party; no doubt that had dampened the mood once noticed. Maybe if she got back to the TARDIS, she could contact her, leave a message, one for her, to thank her for everything she'd done over the last couple of years, and another to pass on. What could she say that would begin the encapsulate how sorry she was? The lengths she would go to change things?

Half furious, Rose kicked the ashes into a cloud, and watched as they settled, coating her feet in a thin sheet of grey. It was no good crying; crying wasn't going to solve her problems and she had no right to feel sorry for herself, anyway. Still, the tears came think and fast, and she lifted her visor to wipe them away with her clunky gloves, the industrial material scratching her face. _Come on, now, deep breath, one, two, three._ She shuddered on the exhale and closed her eyes, letting the soft breeze cool her burning cheeks for a short while. It was a final undeserved indulgence before she set on her next course of action. 

Once composed, she re-entered the jungle where she'd come out and trekked with all the vigour she thought she no longer had, kicking through foliage and climbing over the oversized greenery, blasting her way through like it was a competitive obstacle course and Keith Chegwin was cheering from the side-lines. She abandoned her usual gun policies, firing liberally at anything that seemed like it could become an annoyance, vaguely aware that she would feel disappointed in herself when in a better state of mind, though honestly she'd had enough trouble already, a little unbridled rage was earned if that was what was going to get her to the TARDIS in one piece. 

The rage began to wain along with the initial rush of adrenaline that had so far spurred her and as such her legs were beginning to ache in the heavy, sluggish way that made every step feel like it would last forever and no matter how many you took, they were never going to get you to where you wanted to go. She stumbled past the corpse of the creature she had killed earlier, so she knew she was headed in the right direction. Already it was missing the fleshier parts of its body and no doubt one Rose was gone, the rest would become dessert. 

She could too, if she were the sort give up, nestle herself against a tree and drift off to sleep, monsters be damned. It was a ridiculous notion, she wasn't old yet, her body hadn't fallen apart, but something about the air was draining and mounted with everything that threatened to topple her, she felt like she could lay down in the dirt and become one with it. Let the flesh be torn from her bones and the rest rot away to become part of the earth. Circle of life and all that. 

But she kept going, kept climbing. It wasn't far. It really, truly wasn't. The TARDIS called to her. Perhaps she was delirious, but she was sure if she closed her eyes and listened, she would hear it's beating heart a mile away, guiding her home. It was a part of her, had been for almost half her life. And it was killing her. The spark she stole and used to save and conquer and resurrect was slowly taking it all back in kind and there was nothing she could do about it. _Oh god_ , there was nothing she could do about it. She’d actually failed. This was it, she was going to die. And soon. Either in the forest or on the ship or trying to get somewhere in the ship. She was going to die. 

She halted in her tracks, chest hammering. The sky had darkened, the falling shadows almost disappearing with little left to cast them. Suddenly, the canopy was entombing and the poisonous colours of the scenery were washed away into something all the more muted and sinister. A little further, she thought, just a little further. But still she stood, knowing her destination was not far around the corner, unable to will herself there. How had she not realised how tired she was? Beyond her aching legs and the unfulfilling air there was a crushing weight anchoring her to the spot, a heaviness behind the eyes that would not lift. But then, she supposed, she hadn't slept, her unfocused vision the natural result of opting instead to spend her night shagging someone who wasn't technically her husband and if infidelity warranted punishment, this was surely the first part of hers. 

As mortifying as it was, she longed for the second part that would probably never come; the confrontation that she was already planning for. What she was going to say, anticipating how he'd react and how she was going to apologize. He'd forgive her for her transgressions, she knew, and then they were going to move on with their lives and she would remember the time spent in her homeland with the same distant fondness of a happy childhood that was best left behind. Long lost was the dream of growing old, of watching her children grow into the people they would one day become. In the light of nothingness, to see them just once more would be enough. 

A lizard like thing scuttled from her periphery into her direct line of sight, it's shape outlined by the bioluminescent markings that covered its body. It shook it's tail as a warning and turned its head with a jolt and looked right at her, it's glowing eyes acidic green.

"The fuck do you want?" She said to it half-heartedly, but at the sound of her voice it flinched away from her as if it only just realised she was alive, though never breaking it's stare. 

It opened its mouth to hiss or spit or yawn; what it was trying to do didn't matter because she shot it anyway. The creature was small enough that the blast eviscerated most of its body as well as its head, leaving behind a pair of hind legs and an abstract painting of brightly coloured gore spread across the floor and splattered up a trunk. If she got the chance, she would feel sorry about it later. Instead, the sound and light and viscera nudged her awake and she stepped over the corpse to push though the lingering fog that was holding her back. 

She found the TARDIS even quicker than anticipated and upon seeing it, resisted the urge to scream. She supressed it with every fibre she had, waiting a moment and took in a few deep breaths that fogged up her visor. She ripped the helmet off and threw it to the ground, watching as it bounced off the dirt and rolled a foot before settling in a poof of dust. She went to kick it but missed and the unshed tears that so often fought for appearance threatened to fall if left unchecked. In an attempt to fight them, a burst of laughter sprang forth instead, a hysterical little thing that said of course, this is my life. 

The TARDIS was just where they had left it, awkwardly perched on an oversized root that it was slowly crushing. The root, it seemed, was fighting back. From the split the TARDIS created, dozens of curling vines had grown and wrapped their way around the ship like a snake with its pray, squeezing so hard that the blue paint was beginning to chip. The strain to splinter the exterior was obvious, but the wood was still perfectly intact. Rose sighed with momentary relief, and patted the side of the ship with a promised she was going to get her out. 

The vines were tentacle-like, soft and fleshy and most hadn't grown to be especially thick yet. She grabbed one the smaller ones near its source and yanked as hard as she could still manage. It came away on the third try and she stumbled back, almost tripping over in the process. She tossed the vine to one side and watched, enraptured, as it shrivelled and died before her eyes. She nudged the remaining husk with her foot and it to crumbled to dust at the first touch, leaving the TARDIS a tad more visible than it had been a moment before.

By the time she was pulling at the fourth vine, her arms were trembling and her grip was loose and clumsy. She used her legs as the driving force, her shoulders no longer up to the task but the rest of her couldn’t manage and she fell backwards on the pull, fully tumbling this time, landing on the compacted dirt hard enough to knock the wind out of her. The impact on the back of her head made her see stars and for a short eternity, once more she considered staying there and decaying to become worm food or wild flowers. Eventually, the dizziness passed with her nihilism and she struggled back to her feet, panting. 

Typically, trees weren't capable of picking fights and, typically, Rose thought it unfair to start shit with them on those grounds, but she was tired and this one was intent on making her life even more difficult in a moment when she was low on options. The inevitable fit of rage that would result if she missed drove her to a point blank range. Barely functioning, she thought she might not make even as close as she was. She realised her mistake the moment she fired; the vine exploded in the same manner of the lizard creature, wild and far-flung and touching everything it could reach, including Rose.

Organic matter splattered her face and hazmat from her knees up. She heard the fizzing of acid burring holes into her suit and flesh, a particularly large chunk making a pothole of her cheek, too close to her eye for comfort. She tried to swallow against the pain but ended up choking on it instead, gasping for air and clawing at her burning throat. She couldn't tell if the burning was coming from the inside or out. 

After, Rose would realise that the ordeal had only lasted a few seconds at most and that the fact that it had felt like hours was just a result of adrenaline and fear and agony. That she was alone and in desperate need of comfort, to be held, to go home, didn't help. 

The time vortex had already begun its strange, intricate magic long before Rose noticed; the warm glow that started in her chest and manoeuvred it's way around the rest of her body looking for things to fix and kiss better. When it regrew her skin and muscle and sinew, it felt less like she was being repaired and more like the damage was being made as such that it never existed. Parts of her being restored to how they had once been, her body made up of pieces from different times. Different Roses. The past and present unable to reconcile. She figured that was why she was dying.

She was in the TARDIS and she was dying. Truly, this time, she thought. She looked down at her fingers and under the skin she could see the gold light pulsing in time with her heartbeat, slower than it should be. It grew a little brighter with every thump and soon it would consume her in the light of a supernova. Would it hurt? If so, she'd probably earned it. 

Too hot, she unzipped her hazmat and slipped it off, kicking it to one side, along with the oversized boots she wore with it. She could barely feel the grated metal flooring against her bare feet. A distant part of her was aware that it should hurt and that her feet weren't her now feet but her feet from when they walked on the smooth floor of a clean kitchen or the likes. 

She was guided to the TARDIS console and ran her fingers across the dashboard, over the knobs and dials and levers, pressing and pulling each one as she passed, gliding her way around the station. It didn't matter what their purposes were, that wasn't what she was using them for. It was a wake up call, one after the other. _I need you_ , she said inside of herself. There was no need for words here. _You did this to me, you know_. 

The TARDIS didn't respond to the input but Rose knew she could hear her, was listening to the things she was screaming in her direction. Eventually she flashed an image in Rose's mind; the first time they spoke, when Rose had forced her way into her heart and used her power and was still paying the price. 

The TARDIS laid her heart bare this time without being asked, no pickup truck required. Rose hesitated. To look right into the time vortex once more would surely kill her outright. But then, she was dying anyway, wouldn't it be better if it were quick? And in return perhaps Rose could guide the ship closer to home as some final triumphant act. She thought of her family, her children, her mum, her brother, Pete. The friends she still had even when they couldn’t see each other anymore. She thanked whatever fortune granted her the chance to reconnect for a while, however short. She thought of the Doctor, both of them because time wouldn’t take one from her heart even if she wanted it to. She wanted to say goodbye, but she didn't want to die for nothing, so she looked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next one will probs be the last idk i still dont know how the bit before the end is going to go 🤷♀️ wish me luck


End file.
